Bound
by CricketsInTune
Summary: In world where demons have taken over, exorcisms are outlawed, and the slave trade is the most lucrative source of income, only the wealthy and those who know how to hunt survive. And werewolves make the most profitable slaves. What will Derek Hale do when he's bought by Stiles Stilinski? And what will Lydia Martin do when she finds herself owning Peter Hale?
1. The House of the Rising Sun

"You can't actually be planning on going through with this, Stiles." As they walked down the hallway, Lydia's harsh whisper nearly made Stiles turn back. That, and the smell of sulfur that was enough to make him gag. But the demon clientele wasn't exactly minimal in a place like this.

"I just need you to back me up here, I can't back out now." The smell made him even more jittery than usual, and they had checked for weapons at the door. He felt naked, exposed, as he always did without some form of protection.

"Are you aware of how crazy this is?" Lydia's voice raised and their escorts glanced back, eyes flashing black as they entered the viewing room. Stiles felt Lydia immediately grab his hand.

"I know…" Stiles muttered into her ear, his eyes remaining locked on the scene in front of him, "But this is something I have to do."

It wasn't the auction house itself that made him uneasy, it was the idea behind it. Even after years of normalizing the slave trade, Stiles couldn't quite wrap his head around the fact that this was the world now. The hunters and the hunted, nothing more. He had lucked out being wealthy, but he was still human. And demons were always looking for a new host to play with.

There were plenty of them here now, guarding all the exits as other buyers flooded in, human and supernatural alike. But none of them paid any mind to a scarred up eighteen-year-old and his banshee sidekick. No, their eyes were all focused on the far wall. Stiles found himself unable to look away and Lydia's hand never left his. She didn't like this either, but he couldn't blame her.

"We need to get closer." Stiles muttered and Lydia silently followed as they made their way through the crowd of bodies to the wall, demons standing guard at either side.

"Do you know which one is him?"

It was then Stiles fully let himself examine the captives chained to the wall. There was over twenty of them, chained up with their arms over their heads, almost completely naked, electrical shock wires attached to them in case anyone tried to fight their bonds. He knew by the collars which ones were werewolves. Mountain ash collars stopped the change and these slavers weren't taking any chances.

"Yeah…I do. Number 18." Stiles knew which was the wolf he was looking for, even though he hadn't seen him in years. Not since before the fire, before his dad was ripped from him, before Beacon Hills had been gutted. But he knew it in the eyes, and that was enough.

Derek Hale.

"He's not going to come willingly." Lydia was right about that. If a look could kill, this werewolf would've murdered the entire room. But he still had fight in him, and that was important.

"Neither will his uncle."

"You're taking him too?" The older man beside Derek looked just as murderous, but there was something more predatory about him, arrogant even. But his eyes said something else.

"Nope. You are." Stiles refused to look at the banshee then, knowing exactly what her face must be doing. This wasn't the part of the plan he'd shared with her.

"If you think for one minute I'm taking some older, creepy werewolf into my house, you really have gone crazy!" Her fast, harsh whisper only made Stiles smile nervously, "And I'm not spending the money."

"You won't have to. I'm buying him for you."

"You wouldn't dare."

"I'm not leaving them, Lydia. I can't." He felt the werewolf's eyes on him and heat blossomed under his skin despite the look of disgust. No…Stiles couldn't leave these two there.

"And what am I supposed to do with him? Take him shopping with me?"

"Take him shopping, make him do your laundry, let him go for all I care. Just…please. Please do this one thing for me," Stiles looked at her because he couldn't bear seeing the faces of everyone he would be leaving here, all the people he couldn't set free. Their fate was something he couldn't control, "I'll owe you the biggest favor in history."

"Stiles…"

"Just trust me, okay? We could use more help hunting anyway. Don't make me beg, because I will." Lydia seemed to consider her options for a moment before sighing, clearly having some form of sympathy for Stiles' crazy plan.

"Call the damn auctioneers over already."

"Excuse me!" Stiles nearly stumbled as he caught the eye of one of the workers, raising his hand up as they came over, "I'd like all your info on numbers 18 and 19." The smile on the man's face gave Stiles a chill and Lydia's grip on his hand tightened.

"Ah, two of our most popular slaves," The man gave Stiles two sheets of paper, adding, "And two of our most expensive."

"I'll pay whatever it costs."

There was a debt that needed paying. And some things, money couldn't buy back.

* * *

Beacon Hills hadn't been a town in a long time. It was the shadow of what it once was, and Derek knew that ghosts were everywhere in a place like this. The last time he set foot in town was when everything he loved went up in flames. Before the demons had taken over. Before he turned to stone. But you did what you had to do in order to survive in a world that became hell on Earth.

It happened when he was in high school, but even then, no one really talked about it. The Hale's knew enough about things in the supernatural world because they were a part of it, but humans remained blissfully unaware. Or they were, until more and more people got possessed. Some door to hell had been opened and no one was able to close it. Damn hunters…always did more harm than good. Except this wasn't a simple clean up job, no, this was possession on a mass scale. And it became clear that these demons weren't looking for the apocalypse. They wanted to set up shop topside and rule the roost.

No one really stood a chance.

Derek fled the moment Beacon Hills started getting more corrupted. And when everyone found out that werewolves existed. He and Peter skipped town. But hunters, slavers, and demons made them separate on the road. Derek knew that slavers had caught him a while ago, but it wasn't safe for a wolf to be out in the open. Not anymore. He'd fought his way back to Beacon Hills to find his uncle, but the town was a ruin by then.

Even his old house had crumbled more, and the sight of it made him sick. He smelled sulfur and didn't bother holding back the growl in his throat. This was his fucking house. His. And no one had the right to take it.

"I thought I smelled dog." One of the demons stepped out of the house, a smirk on her lips as her eyes turned jet black. Two more followed and Derek figured he might actually have a chance taking them down. But he wasn't a hunter; all he had were his claws.

"This is private property."

"Oh, that's cute. Let me guess, this tattered, piece-of-shit house is yours?" The demon stepped closer, the other two following as she stepped onto the ground. Derek's eyes glowed blue as his face changed, claws coming out.

"Leave."

"Or what? You'll growl at us? Please, fido, you know you can't win here. Put the claws away and maybe we'll kill you quicker." Derek let out a warning growl and one of the other demons let out a laugh.

"Oooo how scary!" He waved a hand and Derek went flying across the yard, slamming into a tree trunk as he fell to the ground.

"GET OUT!" Derek bellowed as he stood, roaring as he ran towards the demons, clearly with some sort of death wish. But he had barely started running when one of the demons yelled as a bullet pierced their chest.

"Blessed bullets!" It cried out in pain as it fell, smoke rising from the wound. A group of humans appeared from the woods and all hell broke loose. More bullets were shot and Derek saw someone wielding a super soaker, the holy water inside making short work of demon skin. The female demon was strong, able to throw some of them back, but someone fired salt shotgun shells into her and even she went down. Derek barely had time to help.

"Thank…" He was about to say as he got a face full of mountain ash, making him choke.

"Someone get the chains!" One of the humans yelled as he felt an electric shock go into his side, another roar of pain escaping him as he tried to blink the ash out of his eyes. He felt a metal bat hit him whenever the shocks would stop, and he couldn't fight back.

"Damn demons nearly tore him to pieces. You know how much one like him is worth?" He felt heavy chains wrap around his wrists and when he tried to fight, he got another face full of mountain ash.

"What…" He started to say, but a boot collided hard into his ribs.

"Shut your fucking mouth, mongrel."

He didn't ask again, not when he knew exactly what was happening. If these were hunters, they would have killed him already. No, this was something far worse. Maybe he wouldn't need to find Peter after all. Maybe he'd be brought right to him.

"Too bad he isn't an alpha, those always go for more."

"Just get him in the truck! Make sure the ash is in place." Hands roughly grabbed him and forced him into the bed of a truck nearby. He fought against the hold until he felt a needle enter his skin, injecting him with something that felt like poison in his veins.

"That'll keep him quiet. Now let's get out of here before any patrols come by. They won't like what we did to those demons." He heard other doors slam but he could still barely see, focusing more on the pain that was slowly making its way through his whole body. And worst yet, they had lined the truck bed in mountain ash, so any hopes of flinging himself out were out of the question.

For years he'd been careful, so fucking careful…but seeing those demons at his house had made him lose it. And now it would cost him his freedom. Because these humans were the exact ones he wanted to avoid: werewolf slavers. He only hoped wherever they were taking him wasn't like those underground fight pits he heard of. Either way, he was going to be someone's property, and he wasn't going to go down without a fight. Not after everything.

* * *

"Why hasn't this one been sold?"

"He's one of our more difficult captives. But he does excellent in our Dogfights."

Peter wanted to spit at these assholes, it was his only line of defense at this point. They wired him up more than any other slave here as if he really could rip his way out while being zapped with all that electricity. Imbeciles. It was all for show anyway, they wanted him to look dangerous so no one would buy him.

"He's attractive enough." The woman said as she stepped closer, examining him. Just a little more…She reached out to touch his chest and Peter took the opportunity to spit right in her face, a smug look crossing his. She recoiled with revulsion. If they wanted to treat him like an animal, then he would act like one.

"Juice him!" The worker yelled out as Peter clenched his teeth as the electricity shot through him, making his very bones shake. But he was used to that by now.

"I apologize ma'am." The worker said as he tried to offer the woman a handkerchief but she batted him away, moving out of the auction room in a hurry, two escorts with her. The electricity stopped and Peter slouched, his wrists bearing his weight.

"Will you ever learn to behave, Hale?" The worker stepped up to the werewolf, his eyes turning black as he clicked his tongue.

"It's not in my nature, unfortunately." Peter grinned wearily and the worker summoned two guards over to take him down.

"Bring number 19 to the Pit. I think he's ready for another fight."

"Did Malphas okay it?"

"She'll want her best fighter to impress her guests. You don't want her angry, do you?" Peter had learned enough about the head demon at the auction house to know that she was a raging bitch when mad. And her underlings knew it too.

"We'll take care of it." Peter didn't bother fighting them as they unchained him from the wall, it wasn't worth it. If he was being sent to the Pit, he'd need to preserve his strength.

The auction house was an impressive place. It had to be with all of its wealthy clientele. But the underground was a different story. The slave quarters were holes in the ground and the only time the captives were ever cleaned up was before a showing. The Pit was one of the worst places, save for where they tortured people. It was never cleaned, usually was coated in blood from past Dogfights, and had the distinct smell of death. Two werewolves went in, and only one ever came out. People paid big money to see them fight to the death and luckily, Peter wasn't exactly easy to kill.

Survival was his art now, killing the only thing he really cared about anymore. He was good and after dozens of fights, he still hadn't lost. And he didn't plan on losing anytime soon. Just like he didn't plan on becoming someone's plaything either.

"Prep the dog, Malphas wants to see him fight." The guards handed him off to the pit-leader, who started his routine inspection, checking Peter's eyes, mouth, reflexes. After Peter took one of his fingers off, they didn't feed him for a week. He still won his fight.

"Think today will be the day you finally get your ugly ass beat?" The pit-leader asked and Peter simply shrugged.

"Doesn't seem likely."

"And why is that?"

"I can't lose." Peter could hear the crowd gathering outside the metal doors. The Pit was filling up for the fight and the spectators were always hungry for blood. And winning their bets.

"They wanna off you, or sell you. The house is losing money on a wolf who won't die."

"You can't kill what's already dead." The pit-leader shook his head as he pulled off Peter's mountain ash collar, still keeping his hands bound until the last moment.

"Save the dramatics, they make you look like a pussy." Peter's eyes glowed blue at that and at the same time, the metal doors swung open and the werewolf looked out into the dirty, concrete battleground that he'd become so used to. Before he could say anything else, his wrists were freed and he was pushed into the circle, door closing behind him. People cheered from above, protected by a high metal wall that was electrified. Damn demons thought of everything.

But part of him lived for this. He let his face change as he let out a roar to the crowd, and everyone cheered for him. They knew exactly who he was. Peter's attention turned to the metal door opposite him as it opened and his opponent was pushed into the ring. But when they met eyes, Peter felt a chill run through him.

"Derek?" He hissed and Derek looked relieved, confused, and worried all at once. If that was even possible for him, "They got you too, nephew?"

"I came back to find you."

"Well, excellent job I must say." Peter didn't quite like the possible outcome here. He knew how strong Derek was, he had Talia's blood in him after all. But Peter could take him, and it wasn't something he wanted to do…for the most part. Survival still meant survival.

"I'm going to get us out of here." The serious look on his nephew's face looked sincere and so the older werewolf fought back his own bitter laugh.

"By all means, give it a go. Although I doubt both of us will leave the Pit alive." Peter let his claws out and Derek seemed to understand where this was going.

"Enough talking!" Both Peter and Derek looked up and saw a woman gazing down at them with black eyes, anger written across her harsh face. Malphas may have been beautiful, but she was the worst demon in the entire auction house, "Fight. Or go to Alastor." Now the smile crossed her lips and it was as venomous as ever.

Peter didn't wait to strike at Derek, he refused to be sent to the torturous demon. Not again. He'd been here long enough to know how things worked and he could tell by the way Derek glared at him that his nephew didn't understand.

"We need to fight, Derek. I won't go back to Alastor." Peter hit Derek again, clawing across his chest and Derek let out an angry growl.

"So you plan on killing me?"

"What he'll do to you will make you wish you were dead." Peter got in a few more hits before Derek actually hit back, and the older werewolf could tell that he hadn't been a captive long; he still had his strength.

"How long have you been here?" Derek asked and Peter let out a laugh. He didn't have the answer, he lost count months ago, maybe years. And Derek seemed to understand that by his reaction. There was a fear in his nephew's eyes then and he recognized it, it was the same he had once. The fear of death, fear of being trapped. It all faded eventually.

Peter reached out and grabbed Derek in a hold, slamming him in the ground with a roar as he quickly whispered, "If we both go unconscious at the same time, they'll take us both out." It would buy them some time if anything. Derek was pretty enough to get bought up and Peter wouldn't have to kill another member of his family.

If Derek agreed with the plan, Peter couldn't be sure, but his nephew jumped to his feet and starting slashing at the older werewolf. He pushed him across the room but Peter just lunged back. And the dance continued like that. Peter was exhausted and he felt Derek hold back, wanting to wait for the exact moment. Derek broke one of Peter's arms and he responded by shattering his knee. Blood filled the older werewolf's mouth but he just spat it out, landing hit after hit on Derek's head before he got a strong swat to his jaw as he started falling. Black formed around his vision but he felt Derek slam into the ground across from him.

And the whole world turned black.

* * *

"You've caused quite a stir trying to buy up my most prized slaves, Mr. Stilinski." Stiles was trying hard not to fidget and not to completely freak out about the fact that he'd been brought in to see Malphas. Alone.

"What can I say? I'm a stir-the-pot sort of guy." He offered a smile but she didn't return it, her face about as friendly as a viper. And her all-black suit didn't make her any less intimidating.

"I normally dislike that quality in humans," She crossed her legs and Stiles felt like she could probably hear how hard his heart was beating, "It's interesting to me that you've chosen the Hale's. Any particular reason?"

"I have a thing for brooding brunettes."

"And what about the uncle?"

"He's going to be a gift for my friend, you can't be too careful nowadays and she needs someone to protect her. Being a human doesn't exactly make me the best choice." Malphas eyed him carefully and Stiles made sure he watched what he said. The demon leaned forward and her gaze seemed to pierce right into him.

"That can easily be remedied. I could find a host of demons who wouldn't mind occupying even a body as lanky as yours. Just say the word." She said the last sentence almost seductively and Stiles felt bile rise in his throat. He wanted to say 'No fucking way you evil bitch' but luckily he was a little smarter than that.

"Thanks, but no thanks. I like the whole being-in-control-of-my-body thing."

"A shame…we'd make good use of you," It was moments like these Stiles thanked his wealth. Money really was power these days and without it, he would've been a human meatsuit a long time ago, "Back to business. I'm reluctant to give these two up, especially the older one. He's one of our best fighters though revenue has been suffering...People have been eager to watch uncle and nephew fight again."

"You made them fight?"

"Is there a problem?" Stiles froze. The idea that she made them fight to the death made him feel sick, and no doubt she wouldn't let them off easy next time. The boy only shook his head and she continued talking, "The older one will be pricey, but the younger has worth as well. And he's a feisty one. Doesn't particularly like fire, so if you're looking for a way to break him…"

"I'm sure I'll find my own way of dealing with him."

"And what exactly are you intentions for my young dog, Mr. Stilinski? Personal protector? Bed slave?"

"I didn't think buying a slave came with so many questions." He could feel himself get close to snarky territory which would have been fine if he wasn't negotiating with a high level demon.

"I take a very deep interest in what becomes of my slaves. We do, after all, sell the best in the state. Though the Hale's haven't quite submitted to our standards of servitude."

"I think I'll make good use of his mouth." The words slipped from Stiles' lips and he felt heat spread across his face which only made a dark smirk cross her lips.

"That's what I like to hear," She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward as her eyes turned black, something hungry in her gaze, "Now, let's discuss price."

"I'll give you fifteen thousand for both of them."

"You know that price is insulting," She shook her head at him as she stood up, leaning on her desk as she looked down at him, "You can do better than that."

"Twenty thousand." Stiles figured he would aim lower than their worth in the hopes she'd give him a deal. But it didn't seem likely.

"Warmer, but still insufficient."

"Thirty thousand. Fifteen for each of them which I know is more than you charge for other werewolves. And as valuable as Peter Hale may be to you, he's practically unsellable."

"Yet here you are willing to buy him."

"I like a good challenge." He stared into her black eyes and the air was heavy for a moment. But then her eyes changed back to icy blue and she held out her hand.

"We have a deal," Stiles shook her hand as she moved around the desk and opened the door he came in through, "Now, you need to inspect your new slave. It's customary."

"Inspect him?"

"The old one won't be necessary, your banshee can see to him later. But our younger wolf…I'm eager to see how he takes to you. Come with me," Stiles followed Malphas as two guards joined them, leading him back into another room in the auction house where both Derek and Peter waited, heavily restrained. Lydia was still nowhere to be seen, "Take number 19 to be prepped. Number 18 will go once our client has examined and paid for him."

"What? We've been bought? By him?" Peter said in disbelief and Derek looked ready to rip someone's throat out.

"Silence him," Was all Malphas said as a guard prodded a baton into Peter's side, shocking him as he howled, unable to change because of the collar. Stiles did everything he could not to flinch. They dragged Peter out and the demon beckoned Derek forward, the guards pushing him towards Stiles, "Strip him."

"What?"

"What?" Both Stiles and Derek said at the same time and the guard ripped off the pair of briefs the werewolf wore, a growl escaping his lips as Stiles felt himself turn red.

"Does he fit your standards? And feel free to touch, he does belong to you now."

Stiles nearly fell over when Malphas spoke and Derek fought the guards who held it but they had clearly made sure he wasn't at full strength. And the gaze the demon gave Stiles made him realize he had to play his part, or else. And so he took a step closer to Derek, swallowing hard as he reached up and let his fingertips touch the werewolf's muscled chest. He also tried desperately to keep his eyes away from anything below eye level. Not thinking about how naked he was seemed really, really important.

"Um…yep, this is good. Very good. Awesome."

"Are you certain?" Stiles felt Malphas move behind him, her hand moving over his as she guided his hand down Derek's chest. _Please, please don't let me touch his dick._ Stiles licked his lips because he knew he couldn't back out, couldn't show any weakness. But the thought of fondling this werewolf in front of everyone was a bit much. The werewolf growled and tried to pull away but the demons held him firm.

"I'm typically more private about this sort of thing."

"Ah, so innocent," Malphas released his hand and Stiles snatched it back like it was burned, meeting Derek's eyes finally and he saw something deeper than pain there, something lost, "But I respect my clients. Take number 18 away for transport." Derek growled as the guards forced him away the same way they took Peter.

"I have the money." Stiles said finally as he pulled three sets of wrapped bills from his inner jacket pocket.

"You know my rules," Malphas seemed pleased that Stiles had taken the time to prepare the money to her exact standards. Lydia had made sure they did their research. He handed the demon the money, still baffled that he had actually gone through with this, "Your slave will be delivered promptly. I thank you for doing business with me, Mr. Stilinski. And I will be checking in."

The demon turned from him and left, allowing the guards to escort him back to the auction room where Lydia stood impatiently waiting, tapping her high-heeled foot against the ground. When she saw Stiles, slight relief crossed her face. He felt better just seeing her.

"That took about ten years."

"It felt like twenty," Stiles sighed as they headed for the exit, "Remind never to make deals with demons again. She made me…inspect Derek. And he was naked. Emphasis on the naked."

"Did you touch his…?" Stiles nearly choked when she said it, and her eyebrows raised at the reaction.

"No. Well, almost. But not because I wanted to!"

"Sure," Lydia said with a slight smile as they made their way to Stiles' Jeep, "They're going to be at our houses when we get home, won't they?"

"Yeah, yeah they will."

And that was the part he dreaded the most.


	2. More Human Than Human

**AN: Hey everyone! Thank you so much for all the positive feedback so far! I forgot to post some introductions last time, but this entire story was inspired by this awesome gifset on Tumblr: post/89901658085/teen-wolf-au-in-a-world-in-which-werewolves-are. This is also my first Sterek AU and it will have elements of Supernatural and Buffy the Vampire Slayer thrown in as well. I'm sort of winging it, but I have some tricks up my sleeve! Sorry for any mistakes and feel free to leave me a review! Enjoy :D**

Stiles was completely unprepared for Derek being at his house when he got home. Not only had he gotten used to being alone after his dad was killed, but he wasn't exactly eager to see how the werewolf would react. According to his records, he'd only been at the auction house for a few weeks, but that was enough. He felt even worse for Lydia and knew he owed her his life for what she had agreed to do.

He entered the gates of his house, making note to re-salt the perimeter now that the demons had come and gone. Any house worth keeping needed a line of defense. The gate locked behind him and Stiles took his sweet time getting into his house. He even disarmed the alarm slow. But the werewolf was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he'd given them more trouble on the way over.

He sighed in relief, rubbing his eyes as he climbed the staircase to his room. He was already pulling off his shirt as he flicked on the lights and nearly fell right on his face. Derek stood in the center of the room, a circle of mountain ash trapping him in place. And he was naked. Completely fucking naked. Again.

"Mother of God…" Stiles shouted in surprise as his eyes shot to the ceiling, determined not to ogle the naked werewolf in front of him. Because he really didn't need that right now, "They couldn't even give you a loincloth or something?"

Derek just stared at him angrily, breathing hard in a way that said 'Fuck you' and Stiles couldn't blame him. So instead of waiting for the werewolf to spark up conversation, the boy went over to his large closet and grabbed a pair of sweatpants.

"Here, these should fit," He handed them to Derek who still stared hard at him, though it looked more confused now. But he didn't make a move to put the pants on, "Dude, I really don't want to stare at your junk," The werewolf's eyes glanced down at the small ring of ash around him and Stiles took the hint, "Right, sorry about that." He stretched his foot out to destroy the circle and Derek moved out of it, slipping the pants on.

"You want me as a bed slave," It wasn't really a question, more of a statement, and Stiles felt himself go red again, "If you think I won't put up a fight, you're wrong."

"No, no, no, and more no," Stiles stepped closer and took off the mountain ash collar with the key Malphas had given him. Derek stared at him slightly confused, "You're going to have to trust me, big guy. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't rip my throat out."

"And why shouldn't I?" Derek's eyes flashed blue and Stiles wondered exactly how long it had been since he was able to wolf-out. He knew he wasn't exactly in the safest position in the world.

"Because I just want to help you."

"I guess you'll want me to call you 'master' now, right?" The bitterness in Derek's voice was laced in sarcasm. Nope, this definitely wasn't going to be easy.

"No, Jesus no. That's just creepy. Stiles. My name is Stiles Stilinski."

"Stilinski…" Derek muttered the name, thinking it over in his head, "The Sheriff's kid?"

"One and only."

"He here too?" Derek seemed perpetually stuck in the past that once was Beacon Hills. Back in the days of Stiles' dad and Chris Argent keeping the town safe. But those days were long gone now.

"Nope. He was killed about a year ago which makes me head of the Stilinski casa. And which also made it possible to drop thirty grand on getting your wolfy ass out of that place. You hungry? You must be, come on, I'll make you something," He kept talking in the hopes it would make this less awkward, and so far, not so much. When Derek didn't follow him, Stiles frowned, "This isn't some trick, I promise. Just listen to my heartbeat."

"I know you're not lying."

"Then what's the problem? Besides, you know, the entire institution of slavery and the fact that demons have taken over…."

"Why."

"Why what?" Stiles asked but he already knew what the werewolf wanted to know.

"Why did you buy me?" Silence hung in the air for a moment because Stiles couldn't quite decide how he should answer.

"It's just something I knew I had to do. Plus in case you haven't noticed. Pale, scrawny human," Stiles gestured at himself and Derek barely raised an eyebrow at the comment, "It was about time I got myself some form of protection."

Derek didn't answer, instead he took two long strides forward and swung a punch at Stiles who immediately dodged it, grabbed the werewolf's forearm and locked him into a hold, twisting him arm with enough pressure to break it if need be. But the wolf only let out a slight bitter laugh.

"What the hell was that!" Stiles said as he released Derek who stood up straight, eyes locked to the boy's amber gaze.

"You don't need protection. You've had training, extensive from the looks of it."

"If you're asking if I can handle myself, the answer is yes. But I'm still human and demons still have this big hard-on about trying to hop inside of me," Stiles decided to stop where this conversation was going before it went somewhere dark, "I'm going to make a sandwich. If you want one, come with me. If not, you can have your pick of the guest rooms."

"I could eat."

At least that was a start.

* * *

"Oh no, this cannot be happening."

"Believe it, mistress." Peter said the words bitterly and it was at this time Lydia wished she'd give Stiles a more firm 'no.' Because she was so not dealing with a naked man in her bedroom. Especially one who looked like he wanted to eat her alive.

"I don't really appreciate your tone," Lydia threw a pink pillow at him which he caught effortlessly, all while stuck in the circle of mountain ash, "Cover yourself up while I find something for you to wear."

"Aw, is my new mistress shy? I'm not." Peter made no move to cover himself as Lydia dug into her walk-in closet for something that might fit.

"I can see that," She found some of Jackson's old clothes, thank god, and handed them to the werewolf, "These were my ex-boyfriend's. And just call my Lydia."

"Maybe I prefer 'mistress,' really confronts the reality of the situation, doesn't it?" As he spoke, Lydia broke the ash circle and Peter stepped out, still not pulling on the jeans she gave him.

"Listen, this wasn't even my idea…" As she spoke, Peter's hand wrapped around her throat and she felt herself get pressed against the wall, his hot breath in her ear.

"You took me away from the one thing I excelled in. Killing. Now what am I supposed to do about that?" No way was she going to deal with this psycho wolf shoving her into walls, not today, not ever. Lydia opened her mouth and let out a bloodcurdling scream that was so powerful it forced him backward onto the floor. She readjusted her blazer before speaking.

"Is that out of your system now?"

"You're a banshee?"

"So they tell me. Look," She took a step towards him as he stood and finally pulled on his pants. Thankfully, "I don't want a slave, I don't even believe in owning them, but Stiles was dead set on saving you and your nephew so that's why you're here. You're safe here, but not if you're determined to try and kill me. That just won't end well for you, got it?"

"Fair enough." Peter pulled on the shirt and eyed her curiously, clearly this was just as bizarre for him.

"I guess you have run of the house, but you even try and use a weapon against me, you'll regret that too. But we could use a wolf with your talents, so I guess this isn't a total disaster."

"And how would talents like mine benefit you?" Instead of answering him right away, Lydia pointed to the silver arrow that hung over her bed, a small phrase written in French underneath it, "You're hunters."

"We prefer 'protectors' but you get the general idea." He stepped closer to the hanging arrow and was silent for a few moments, mulling the idea over in his head.

"Are werewolves on your hit list?"

"Only ones that threaten people. We want what anyone who lives in this world wants, to get things back to normal. Because being overrun by demons isn't exactly my idea of a perfect world," Lydia looked down at her nails with a frown, "If you agree with me, then we could definitely use your help."

"And why would I help you?" Lydia held up the key to his collar and Peter's eyes widened slightly, something almost predatory in them.

"You don't have to, but something tells me you want to get your hands dirty. And don't give me that creepy look…" She handed him the key hesitantly, hoping this wasn't a huge mistake. He did seem slightly off, but she expected that to some extent, "I'll put that thing right back on if you do anything psychotic."

"Understood. Now, if you'd be so kind to show me to my cell."

"Your cell?" She wasn't sure if he was serious or not, but he looked at her with a deadpan expression.

"I'm your fighter now and I expect to have a cell." Her mind flashed to where they must have kept him at the auction house and her heart went out for him for a moment before she spoke again.

"I have a room for you, like a normal person? With a bed? Come on," Lydia led him to one of her spare bedrooms that was more masculine decorated and the werewolf just stood in the door, attempting now to look somewhat surprised, "It has a private bathroom. There's no way I'm sharing mine."

Peter didn't speak, instead he just slowly walked in, fingertips trailing across the dresser before laying down on the bed, rubbing his face into a pillow. Lydia wasn't entirely sure if she should be watching his whole 'wolf scenting' process but he finally turned to look at her and a slight smirk crossed his lips.

"A wolf might get used to this."

* * *

Night in Beacon Hills hadn't been safe in years. Most people did their business during the day, accompanied by slave guards, and by night they locked themselves behind the safety of their walls. And usually a ton of salt, which was growing more difficult that the country was trying to create a ban on selling it. The night belonged to the monsters and it remained that way for miles around. People were scared, and they had every right to be.

Scott and Kira however, weren't. Before they went out on one of their nightly patrols, Scott made sure he put on the fake collar his mom had made for him. He hadn't wore the mountain ash collar since Kira and the Yakimura's had rescued him from the auction house. But if he was caught without it on, they would all get punished.

"I still can't believe Stiles bought two werewolves." Kira commented as they made their way through the woods, her katana hidden in a sheath at her back.

"He kept saying he owed them whatever that means. I don't question him anymore." Scott held a tree branch aside for Kira as they continued to walk, the trees making visibility hard until Kira held up her hand and let golden electric fire sprout from her fingers, illuminating their path.

"Well it wasn't for…you know…" Her cheeks flushed and Scott only grinned, still finding her sweetness to be one of her best traits.

"Like a sex thing? No way," Scott said it but he wasn't entirely sure. He knew exactly how frustrated his best friend was but he knew Stiles wasn't about to force himself on anyone, especially a werewolf with twice his strength, "I think he wants them to join our pack."

"And are you okay with that?"

"If they want to help then yeah. We could use more manpower. Or, people-power. Because you obviously are really helpful too." Scott stumbled over his words a bit and Kira only smiled softly, her hand taking his.

"I knew what you meant," A comfortable silence fell over them as they continued to walk a ways, "So Lydia said that she felt a disturbance out here somewhere. What could that mean?"

"I'm not sure. Usually when that happens, someone winds up dead or we end up with a faery infestation." That was a memory he'd sooner forget. But one thing was for certain, ignoring Lydia's senses was never a good idea.

"Do you smell anything?" Scott took a few deep breaths, trying to detect anything out of the ordinary when his eyes suddenly flashed red.

"Sulfur."

Kira didn't wait for him to say more. She unsheathed her katana which she had anointed with holy water before leaving, and Scott did his best to hold in his wolf. If he changed, the collar would be pointless. But he did have a pocket full of salt and a bottle of holy water just in case. His mom had gotten over protective after the sheriff was killed, but he couldn't blame her.

"Please don't wolf out…" Kira muttered and right on schedule, three demons appeared from the trees, eyes already black. Scott knew by their smell that they weren't high level demons, only ones patrolling after dark for any weak humans that could be made into hosts. Or for disobedient werewolves.

"Now what do we have here? A kitsune and her pet?" Kitsunes were rare, but Kira's family was known enough in the region that the demons knew here traits when they saw it. On cue, Kira let the fire in her palm die down.

"We were just taking a walk." Kira said softly, and Scott wished he had some authority to talk back to them.

"It's a bit late for that. Don't you know there're nasty things out after dark?" One of the demons said and another chuckled. Scott eyed the electric baton at his hip and hoped they wouldn't come to blows.

"I just wanted some fresh air. And I brought my…slave with me for protection." Kira hated the word, it was obvious, and as one demon stepped closer, Scott couldn't control the growl in his throat.

"Control your dog, or we'll do it for you." The demon snarled, "Or we could always show you how it's done." He reached for Kira and something in Scott completely snapped. Lately, anything that threatened her made his blood run hot. He couldn't stop his face from changing as he let out a roar, and immediately the three demons drew their batons.

"Take this one alive! Bael will want him as a pet." One of the demons sneered and Kira drew her katana, eyes glowing with foxfire as she prepared to fight.

"You won't touch him."

All hell broke loose then. Kira jumped forward like the lightning in her veins, slashing at the demons where she could, smoke rising from their skin. Even when the electric batons hit her, their energy didn't affect her, if anything, it urged her on. She buried her sword into the chest of one of the demons, shooting foxfire up her arm and through the man. He shuddered, convulsing from the blessed blade, and fell stunned. They may have been human once, but the pack had realized a long time ago that they couldn't save everyone.

Scott had dug his clawed hand into his pocket, getting salt under his nails as he scratched at one of the demons, it cried out as the salt burned its skin. This wasn't good. They couldn't leave without taking these demons with them or run the risk of Kira's family getting punished. When he looked at the third demon, Kira had already shocked it with her foxfire, throwing Scott a length of cord. It was Lydia who came up with the idea to carve demon-binding symbols into rope to contain them. And Scott didn't waste time tying up the demon he fought.

"We can't leave them here." Kira said as she bound the two demons she had stunned. Scott thanked God every day that foxfire could help subdue a demon.

"I'll call Stiles."

* * *

"This better be pretty damn important for you to be interrupting my bonding sandwich experience. And I mean life or death, dude." Stiles whispered into the phone after nearly flipping over his kitchen table to answer it and leave the room.

"You're eating sandwiches with the werewolf you just bought?"

"He was hungry!"

"We're not getting into this, I need your help. Me and Kira ran into some trouble in the woods and we have things tied up." Stiles didn't need more details than that. Typical grab and go operation, for the most part. And number one rule of phone calls was never give out too much info because anyone could be listening.

"Text me exactly where you are. I'll be there in like five minutes."

They never really said goodbye anymore, like even the word was taboo. Instead Stiles pulled on some shoes and made his way back into the kitchen where, thankfully, Derek had started eating his second sandwich. The werewolf looked as brooding as ever, even though he was eating a ham and cheese sandwich.

"I need to run out for a few minutes and I'll be coming back with Kira and Scott. There's a demon problem we need to take care of. We'll go straight to the basement so if you'd rather not be involved, you can hangout up here." Stiles grabbed his keys, punching in a code on the safe in the kitchen as he pulled out a sawed-off shotgun with salt rounds, bottle of holy water, and a blessed dagger that he threw in a bag over his shoulder.

"You shouldn't go alone."

"I do this kind of thing all the time, dude. It's not a big deal." But Derek was standing up then, fists slightly clenched as if ready to defend himself.

"I can't help protect you if you leave me here." They stared each other down for a moment before Stiles sighed, not wanting to waste more time. He grabbed the fake collar Melissa had made for him and handed it to Derek.

"Fine. Put this on and try not to wolf-out. There're only so many demons I can handle in one night." Derek put on the collar and they headed for the garage, Stiles chose his Jeep because it was his favorite despite the other options. Plus, it was good with terrain.

It took only a few minutes to get to the woods, and even less time to find Scott and Kira who clearly had their hands full. The minute Derek got out of the Jeep and smelled Scott, his eyes flashed blue, almost growling before Scott's flashed red and that seemed to quiet him. Damn werewolf hierarchies…

"Scott and Kira, this is Derek. Derek, this is Scott and Kira," Stiles said quickly as he helped Kira get one of the demons into the Jeep. They needed to work fast, "Sorry for throwing you into this, but this is sort of what we do." Stiles spoke to Derek who watched them with his face unreadable.

"You're hunters."

"Pretty much, yeah." Scott said as they got the last two into the Jeep.

"Hunters who work with an Alpha werewolf?" Derek seemed slightly confused by the whole thing and Stiles didn't blame him. They were sort of a motley crew.

"Me and Scott have been best bros since before all this demon bullshit, he just happened to get bitten in the process. Kira bought him back when the slavers got him," Derek glanced at Kira when Stiles spoke and she smiled softly at him, "Seriously though, we need to go. My Jeep doesn't double as a demon clown car."

The ride back was about as awkward as Stiles expected. At least when Kira bought Scott, it was like a rescue mission. Stiles buying Derek, that was a whole other boat-load of ambiguity he was not ready to discuss yet. With anyone. Luckily, exorcisms gave him something to do. Stiles made sure to re-salt his gate on the way in too.

"Let's get these handsome devils tied up before they…" Stiles started to say as they dragged the demons into his basement filled with hunting supplies, but one decided to wake up right when he spoke, eyes turning black as he fought his bonds.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He growled out as Scott tied him to a chair, Kira and Stiles tying one up together and Derek did the last. Maybe it was good he came along after all.

"Sending you on a one-way train back to hell, douchebag." Stiles said firmly and Scott just gave him a look.

"I thought you were gonna calm down with the tacky phrases, dude?"

"Aw, I just can't help it."

"Bael will skin you for this!" The demon hissed so Stiles pulled his holy water out and splashed it against his skin as he cried out in pain.

"Are you sure you're up to this, Stiles?" Kira asked and Stiles cracked his neck, stretching out his limbs for a moment before nodding.

"I can do it. Salt me," He glanced over at Derek who merely stood silent as he watched Scott make a ring of salt around Stiles, a purely protective gesture. He didn't need one of these demons jumping ship into him, "Everyone grab a partner."

Scott and Kira held a demon down, and Derek took his cue and grabbed the last. Stiles took a deep breath, knowing exactly what this would do to him, but still he started to recite the Latin.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus…" Stiles began to say the exorcism rite and almost immediately the other demons woke up, all screaming out in defiance at what he began to do. He continued to speak and the chairs they sat in began to shake and try to lift off the ground, but Derek, Scott, and Kira held them down.

"Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine…" Stiles felt himself growing weak, the energy in the room thickening as the earth under their feet shook, the lights themselves flickering as the demons let out inhuman screeches. Stiles felt blood trickle down his nose and into his mouth, but he couldn't stop.

"You can do it, Stiles!" Scott yelled out over their voices as Stiles did everything he could to remain standing. His head began to pound and he felt his very bones rattle. More than one demon was always a bitch.

"Cessa decipere humanas creaturas…" Stiles cried out the words, tears in his eyes. _Almost there…_He thought to himself as the demons began to violently shake, mouths opening wide as Stiles finally made it to the last line of the rite, "Te rogamus, audi nos."

It was this exact moment black smoke shot from the mouths of the three men, sinking deep into the floor and down into the earth, leaving a singed black mark behind. Stiles smiled wearily when he realized that two of the men were alive. The one with the sword wound wasn't so lucky. Black formed around his vision and he tried to stay standing but it was no use. The last thing he heard was someone calling his name.

"Stiles!"

* * *

Derek couldn't understand the level of trust Scott had for him already. After Stiles had passed out, Derek had checked to make sure he wasn't dead (because it seemed like the right thing to do) and Scott assured him that this wasn't out of the ordinary. But in the last 24 hours, Derek's life had been far from ordinary.

"He should be fine. If he doesn't wake up soon, or if anything happens. Call me. We need to get these people somewhere safe."

The Alpha had the makings of a good leader and it was something Derek could respect. Seeing his relationship with the kitsune made him realize that maybe Stiles could be trusted not to treat him like most masters did. The fake collar alone was proof of that.

Scott and Kira took the one body to bury and the other two injured men to some underground facility that housed possession victims. Derek had a lot to learn about the town he left years ago. It may be a remnant of what it once was, but there was good hiding here too, and maybe he'd found it after all.

After examining the house more, and there was plenty to see, Derek couldn't really believe that Stiles was the only one who lived here. There were enough rooms for at least five people and nearly each one had its own locked safe full of what had to be weapons. He was nothing if not prepared. Finally, Derek came to Stiles' room which made him slightly uncomfortable considering a bunch of demons had forced him here naked. But at least that went better than expected. The boy lay on the bed, breathing evenly despite the fact that even while sleeping he looked worn out. Derek could see the scars on his skin and wondered how many more he really had.

"What did I miss?" He mumbled groggily as his eyes opened, long-fingered hands coming up to rub his eyes as he sat up slightly.

"Do you make it a habit of passing out after exorcising demons?" Derek ignored his question because he figured his was more important. Watching Stiles rip those demons out had been his first real exorcism done by the books.

"It takes a lot out of me. But I'm the only one who can do it. Lydia taught me the Latin and we realized after my dad died that supernatural beings couldn't exactly command a demon to leave."

"And the ring of salt protects you from them."

"Exactly."

"They could repossess someone and rat you out. Doesn't that worry you?" The one thing Derek learned about demons is that they never stayed dead; they always found somewhere else to jump to.

"Nope. The rite we use is one Lydia found that dates back centuries. It sends those black-eyed bastards back to hell permanently. Or wherever dead demons go. Emphasis on the dead part."

"You actually killed them?"

"Why do you think it took so much out of me, man?" Stiles swung his feet onto the ground but immediately doubled over in pain. Derek could sense it on him, along with the fidgety natural scent he was learning to recognize as his.

"You should rest more."

"No way, I'll rest when I'm dead." There was something almost dark in Stiles' voice that made Derek step closer, a wince escaping the boy as he weakly forced himself to his feet. How many times had he done this and was forced to take care of himself?

"Don't fidget." Derek said gruffly as he placed his hand on the boy's forearm, feeling immediately the deep-set ache in his bones that stretched across all of him. No wonder he seemed in pain. The werewolf started to leech out some of the pain and Stiles let out a moan that made his face flush.

"Ignore whatever sound just came out of me and keep doing that pain thing you're doing. I'll make you a sandwich of your choice every day for the rest of your life if you keep that up."

"So all this, demon hunting, is what you and your friends do?" Derek took his hand away and Stiles almost seemed disappointed that the healing stopped.

"Demons, slavers, witches…pretty much any force of darkness that we can get our hands on. You figure, the world's gone to shit, might as well take some of the evil out while you can, right?" Stiles eyed him curiously, mouth slightly open before he spoke again, "You want in?"

Derek contemplated it. He thought about being captured, about being tortured and forced to fight for weeks, thinking that he'd be bought up by someone who would force him into sex or some sort of sadistic shit. But instead he ended up here with people who were just trying to win the world back from the darkness that took it over. And he had darkness enough in him that needed cleansing.

"Yeah. I want in."


	3. Running Up That Hill

**AN: Thank you all for reading what I have so far! The next chapter will definitely be leading to more relationship development with everyone, and more background/flashbacks as well. I hope you all enjoy and any reviews or favorites are very appreciated!**

They were losing the fight.

When Allison got taken, that was the final straw for Chris Argent. It was go in guns blazing, ready to kill, fuck anyone who got in their way. He'd watched the rest of his family get killed by demons and he wouldn't watch another one get ripped from him. Isaac swore he would make amends for letting them take her, but one werewolf didn't stand a chance against a group of demon slavers.

But they didn't have slavery in mind for her.

They found her in the woods, miles from where the demons had taken her, and by that time she'd stopped breathing. Melissa tried to bring her back, but the damage was already done. Stiles had watched Scott take her in his arms and he knew that something in them all broke. Chris Argent watched with eyes of stone. It wasn't until the sheriff started laughing did everyone pay attention to him.

"We knew you'd come back for your bitch, but we didn't think you'd be stupid enough to bring humans without protection." John's eyes flashed black and Stiles moved to go to his dad, but Lydia and Kira grabbed his shoulders before he could. Chris already had a gun aimed at the sheriff.

"Get the fuck out of him!" Stiles nearly growled the words, white-hot anger flooding through him that tried to mask the fear underneath. Argent cocked his pistol and Stiles knew that no matter how close the hunter had been with his father, he still wanted to destroy the monster that killed his daughter.

"You know exactly how this will end. Get out of him and maybe we'll go easy on you." Chris Argent's voice was steady but the look in his eyes told a different story.

"She died screaming, you know, we made sure of it," John grinned, his eyes still black as he pulled the gun from the holster at his hip, making everyone freeze where they stood, "Not before we had some fun with her, of course."

"Chris! Don't…please…" Stiles nearly begged as Chris took aim, ready to shoot a blessed bullet right into his dad's heart. Even Scott's eyes were glowing red, prepared for anything despite the fact he still gripped Allison's body.

"Bring him back to the house." Chris said and everyone seemed to sigh in relief, but it was at this same moment the demon held up the gun, cocking it with that grin on his lips.

"You think it'll be that easy?" Isaac moved when John spoke, ready to go for him to disarm him, but the demon turned the gun on himself, shooting a bullet right into his heart. Stiles didn't realize he was screaming until Lydia was trying to hold him back.

"Tie him up! I need to stop the bleeding." It was Melissa who spoke, trying to be calm even though she had tears in her eyes. They all knew what this meant, and the demon knew it too.

"Grab the gun!" Chris growled as the demon laughed, blood spilling from his chest. Isaac let out a roar as he tore the gun from John's hand and Kira already moved to wrap a cord around him. Melissa was trying to press a compact onto the wound but they all knew it was fatal, "We need to move. The other demons might be close."

"They're going to have a great time playing with you." The demon laughed out as they piled him into Stiles' Jeep. The boy was shaking and Lydia offered to drive but Stiles knew he had to help somehow. He felt on the verge of panic but he fought it back.

Back at the house, everyone stared at the demon with John's face, tied up and bound without a chance of escaping. Stiles couldn't keep still. The black eyes followed his movements with a smirk on his lips.

"Stiles…"

"We can't just let him die!" Stiles yelled at Lydia who shrunk back, everyone looking at him with something like pity in their eyes. Chris and Isaac were already gone. They had helped get John in the basement, but when Argent realized Stiles wasn't ready to make a decision, the hunter decided to leave. His reason to protect Beacon Hills gone.

"Daddy's dying in here, Stiles. Rip me out and he goes too." The demon let out another laugh and Stiles looked at Melissa as if wanting her to tell him there was still hope.

"He's right…a wound like that is fatal," She looked so strong but there was pain in her eyes for the man that had become much more than a sheriff to her, "We can't keep the demon inside of him."

Stiles knew that they were leaving the decision to him, but in the end, there was only one option. He blinked back tears as he stared at his possessed father, eyes black, empty pits. Nothing but evil left. Suddenly, the demon's grin faded and something like pain crossed his face. His eyes faded back to blue and Stiles knew immediately he was looking at his dad now. He'd fought his way through.

"Dad! Dad you've got to keep fighting," Stiles knelt in front of his father, grabbing his arms and staring into his eyes. He looked so weak now, "We can save you! We can…"

"Son…I can't hold him back for long. He's keeping me alive," John's face filled with pain as he struggled, trying to hang on to himself, "You need to let me go, Stiles."

"Dad…" Stiles' voice was a whisper. He didn't want to accept what he had to do, he couldn't lose anyone else.

"You're strong, kiddo. And smart. If anyone's gonna give this world hell, it's you. I'd proud of you, and your mother would be too," Stiles felt tears fall down his cheeks as they filled his father's eyes, "I'll tell her how great her son turned out."

"I can't do this, I can't." Stiles felt himself shake, felt the panic begin to set in but his father's words called him back.

"Look at me Stiles. Look. At. Me," Stiles obeyed and he saw all the pain in his father's eyes, knowing they may only have a few more moments together, "I love you. And if you love me back, you'll do this. Let me go. And you keep fighting no matter what. You understand me?"

"No matter what…" Stiles whispered back with a nod, knowing what he had to do. John's eyes glanced at everyone else. At Lydia, Kira, Melissa, and Scott. He let out a pain yelled, face full of agony as he spoke.

"You take care of each other." His eyes finally fell back on Stiles and a serene smile crossed his lips before his head fell limp, eyes closing.

"Dad! Dad!"

"Daddy's not home. But I could do just as good a job," The demon spoke now, looking up with black eyes and the same wicked grin. Stiles backed away from him, "'Oooo Stiles, take care of yourself, don't blame yourself for my death even though you couldn't save me, I'll say hi to your mommy burning down in hell…"

"Everyone needs to leave." Stiles said firmly, the tears gone from his eyes as he grabbed holy water and flung it at the demon who hissed in pain, smoke rising from his skin. It wasn't his dad, not anymore, and he would be sure to lay his father to rest.

"Are you sure?" Melissa asked, hand on his arm, and he nodded.

"I need to do this. Alone." He already grabbed the salt, making a circle as he stepped inside. Everyone stood around another moment before Melissa urged them to leave. She understood. Anyone who dealt with death always did.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus," As Stiles began to say the rite, the demon started screaming and shaking, but it only made Stiles speak louder.

"Stiles…you're hurting me, son. Please, please stop." The demon whined out, but Stiles knew better. His father wanted to be released, to be free from this world that had betrayed them all. He wanted to die as himself. And so Stiles continued the rite.

"Stiles! You're killing me! Stiles don't! I don't want to die!" The screaming grew louder and so did Stiles, trying to drown out its pleas and cries as he nearly finished the rite. Stiles felt his knees weaken, his whole body breaking out in a cold sweat as he fought to breathe.

"STILES! STILES!" The demon's screams were bloodcurdling, making the very walls shake and Stiles felt tears running down his cheeks as he fell to his knees, black smoke finally ripping out of his father's body, sinking into the floor. John's body was still.

"DAD!" Stiles cried out as he nearly crawled his way over to his dad's body, gripping onto him as the panic finally flooded out of his chest, his body shaking as he tried to draw in breath. But he wouldn't let go. He couldn't. Even when the world started to turn black and the realization truly hit him. His dad was gone. Gone. They had to wrench Stiles away from John, half conscious and yelling.

He still had trouble sleeping after that night.

* * *

Derek hadn't slept through a night in years. Not since the fire. Not since he saw flames every time he closed his eyes. Ever since the auction house, things had gotten worse when they realized that he couldn't handle being tortured with fire. He hated appearing weak, but there was only so much he could take. And even though he was safe now, he couldn't sleep. Not when his memories were so loud in his head.

It had been over a week since he arrived, and sometimes, he barely saw the boy he lived with. He moved around like a shadow and spent most of his time in his room or in the basement. Derek knew he was there when he would hear feet trip or detect his heartbeat. And the werewolf had gotten somewhat used to picking up after the boy. He did dishes, washed clothes, and he wouldn't say anything when he felt brown eyes on him. Things seemed quiet, in the house and in the outside world.

But he knew Stiles didn't sleep much, if at all. Finally, after lying awake with his thoughts, Derek wandered into the house and followed the scent he'd come to recognize. Knocking on his bedroom door, Stiles opened it, eyes slightly surprised and tired, hair messy like he'd run his hand through it multiple times.

"Can't sleep?" Stiles walked into his room, leaving the door opened and Derek followed him in, sitting on the bed across from where Stiles sat at his desk.

"I don't sleep much."

"Me either, not for a while at least. Who needs to sleep when there's a world full of demons who want to make you their bitch?" Stiles smiled bitterly as he went back to working on the cords on his desk, "Instead I choose to use my time wisely. Hence the cord."

"Did your dad teach you all this stuff?"

"Some of it, yeah. Some of it we picked up from other hunters or just read about it. Some of it I just figured out," Stiles shrugged as he kept carving the symbols along the cord, "I've sort of become an expert on the supernatural in the last few years. Someone needs to know all the info on the creature of the week when they come to town."

"You have enough money to stay out of all of this. If you were smart, you'd leave town and go somewhere safe." When Derek said this, Stiles turned and looked at him.

"Well for one, no where's safe. And two, I can't leave. You came back to Beacon Hills, so you know that you can't just leave this place behind."

"How did you know I was from here?"

"Come on, your last name is 'Hale.' I've only lived here my entire life, dude. Like it or not, everyone knows your story. As completely shitty as is it," Derek knew it made sense, but he felt his face become a mask again and Stiles saw it too, "I don't mean to offend you or anything. It's just…I get it, I do."

"I'm not going to share my life story with you."

"I never asked you to. I think after everything, you have the right to completely ignore me if you want. Most people find it effective." Stiles shrugged and went back to his work, Derek still unsure what to make of this human who seemed to have trouble ever sitting still.

"I'm not exactly good with recognizing my own emotions." Derek said after a moment, nearly through gritted teeth, and Stiles laughed softly.

"Oh what an incredible surprise that is. I had no idea I was living with an emotionally constipated Sourwolf."

"Don't call me that."

"You know it totally suits you, bro." Derek tried his best to glare at the boy but the curve of his lips made the angry look fade.

"This whole situation is just hard for me to adapt to." That much was true. He wasn't used to people just being nice to him and he rarely ever caught a break. He felt like he was braced for impact at all times.

"Just think of us as roommates. We'd make a great sitcom I think. There's the quirky, loveable human and his grumpy, scruffy sidekick…"

"I feel like I owe you." When Derek said this, Stiles stopped his work again and looked at him, the humor gone from the human's face. If anything he smelled like sadness, like guilt.

"You don't owe me. If anything, I owed you."

"How could you owe me anything?" Derek tried to remember Beacon Hills before the fire. A vague memory of the Sheriff and the little boy at his side came to mind but it was nothing more. He knew he didn't know Stiles before, he couldn't have.

"My dad…" It was then Stiles' phone began to ring, and when he answered it, Derek knew immediately that it was Scott and something was going on. Stiles had barely hung up before he was pulling on a hoodie and heading for the basement, Derek deciding to follow him, "We've got a lock on those slavers who brought you to Malphas. Peter caught their scent when he was out with Lydia near your house."

"I didn't think you hunted humans."

"We hunt assholes. If you happen to fall in the human category too, so be it," Stiles grabbed a bag and started filling it with weapons, grabbing a leaded bat with one hand, leaning it on his shoulder, "Do me a favor, big guy, don't get shot."

Derek didn't exactly listen to Stiles.

The hunters had set up shop in the Hale house and they knew almost immediately that Stiles and his friends were about to ambush them. The result of that was the slavers came out with their weapons hot. When the first shot came, Derek immediately pushed Stiles behind him, knowing that he could take a bullet much easier than the human could. Somewhere deep in his chest, his wolf whined out _Protect_, but he brushed the urge off. The bullet buried itself in his shoulder.

"I told you not to get shot!" Stiles yelled and Derek felt white hot pain traveling through his arm and he growled out as he shifted, eyes glowing blue.

"Stiles! 2 o'clock!" Lydia cried out from behind them and Stiles swung his bat without barely even looking as it collided with a crack into the jaw of one of the slavers, and he went down hard. Derek was almost impressed before the slaver holding the gun reloaded and aimed at the boy. Derek let out a roar as he ran towards the man, taking another burning bullet to his chest and thigh. He staggered, but leapt at the man, bringing him to the ground when he heard Stiles call out to him.

"Don't kill anyone!"

Derek knew Peter was probably breaking that rule and the younger werewolf wanted to do the same. These people were in his house. They had taken him, sold him, and tried to hurt the people who had taken him in. Something deep in Derek wanted to get revenge. He bared his teeth at the man who struggled under him and before he could claw into him, Stiles nearly fell next to him, offering up a pair of handcuffs he had packed in his bag.

"Bet those bullets feel great about now, don't they, Mr. 'Oh-I-won't-get-shot-at.'"

"I hope you die, wolf fucker." The slaver spat at Stiles and Derek growled low in his throat.

"Oh shut the fuck up. You're losing, get over it," Stiles said right back, but Derek could smell something he couldn't quite place on the boy as he started disarming the man he had subdued, "Might want to check on that uncle of yours."

Glancing over across the front lawn, Peter was definitely going against the whole 'no kill' order as he threw one of the slavers across the yard. When another tried to get close to where Lydia was, Peter nearly ripped off his arm before the slaver blasted him with a face full of mountain ash. But Kira wasn't affected and her foxfire was doing enough damage. Derek was nearing where Scott fought two hunters when he felt an electric shock run through him, his bullet wounds exploding in pain. He fell to his knees with a roar.

"Derek!" Stiles called him name and he turned to see the human running to him, not seeing the slaver who had tazed him as she raised the gun the other slaver had dropped. Derek's eyes went wide as she aimed for Stiles, and he used every ounce of strength left in him to force himself to his feet and shield the boy as they fell into the ground, more bullets entering his back, "Dumbass…" Stiles muttered as he reached a hand in between them, digging down towards his belt and Derek felt something spark inside of him. Something he didn't recognize. An emotion he'd kept dormant for a very long time. But Stiles had pulled a pistol out from where it was sandwiched between their bodies, aiming it at the slaver as Derek fully began to feel his wounds, blood on fire.

As the shot rang out, he let the darkness consume him, clinging to the warm body beneath him.

* * *

"If you aren't still, I won't be able to get it all out."

"Well maybe if you weren't digging in my back with a knife, I'd be able to lie still."

"Would you rather me leave the mountain ash in and let it poison you?"

"If it would stop you from treating me like a child, then yes."

The slavers had been much more trouble than they were worth, and Peter got a taste of just how creative they could be. One slaver had dragged a blade covered in ash across his back, embedding it with the poison, which was how Lydia had ended up digging it out. With a knife. Scott had dealt with negotiations with the slavers, and Kira's family (as well as their money) helped with that. Lydia got the pleasant task of helping Peter who was currently bleeding all over her Egyptian cotton guest sheets. Marvelous.

"Was it really necessary for you to break that guy's arm?" Lydia carefully dug into the wound, trying to get out every piece of ash she could so he could heal.

"He was about to attack you. I'd prefer if you said 'Why, thank you for saving my life, Peter, how truly heroic of you.'" Peter swore as she continued, pressing a cloth to wipe up the blood all over his back.

"You didn't do it to protect me; you did it to protect your new lifestyle." She knew that much was true. The way Peter acted, he wasn't going to jeopardize the comforts he had now. And she was the secret to keeping them.

"Maybe. Maybe not. You're much better company then the guards at the auction house," That made Lydia stay silent, instead focusing on her task instead of just how long Peter had been enslaved. If his papers had been right, it had been almost three years. How he had endured that long, she wasn't sure, "Would it kill you to be a little gentle?"

"I'm almost done."

Lydia dug out the rest she could, trying not to take too much of his actual flesh in the process. But there were already signs of healing, which was good. She wiped up more blood and absentmindedly trailed her fingertips over the small lines tattooed across his right shoulder. They looked like tally marks, and Peter had over twenty of them. He stiffened slightly when she touched him there, and when she spoke again, her voice was softer.

"What does it mean?"

"Any werewolf who survives a Dogfight gets tattooed," He turned his head slightly to glance at her, the natural arrogant look on his face fading to something that looked almost broken, "Every time you win, you get a tally mark. And I never lost."

She was quiet then, keeping her fingertips there as if touching every single werewolf Peter was forced to kill. It was no wonder he sometimes forgot how to act human. He'd been forced to be a killer for so long it became all he knew.

"Well, you don't have to fight like that anymore." When she said this, Peter moved away from her touch, forcing himself to stand as he healed, stretching out his shoulders.

"That's the only way I know how to fight, mistress," He turned to her, reaching up to take a lock of her red hair between his fingertips. He had a dark smirk on his lips and Lydia watched as any vulnerability faded from his gaze, "Fight, survive, or die. It's my nature and you can't change that."

"You're right, I can't. But you can."

The look of surprise in his eyes was enough to give her hope.

* * *

"It's alive!" Stiles cried out with a grin as Derek finally opened his eyes. Peter had helped get Derek back to Stiles' house while Melissa fussed over the few wounds the boy had sustained. Being the only human in the hunting bunch made Mama McCall particularly concerned with his safety. But he was used to that.

"Why am I naked?" When Derek said this, Stiles felt his face grow hot and prayed to the werewolf gods that he couldn't smell any sort of arousal on him. He didn't need that sort of awkwardness.

"You're not naked…and I wouldn't have to strip you if you had listened to me. You're like the werewolf equivalent of Swiss cheese right now." Stiles had kept Derek's boxers on because he really didn't need another eyeful of the werewolf's stupidly perfect body. Nope, not at all.

"They were going to shoot you multiple times."

"Yeah, I get it. You have some kind of martyr complex…and I respect that. But seriously dude, you don't have to be my personal Kevlar vest."

"You don't like being the most vulnerable one." Derek said this bluntly and Stiles didn't meet his gaze, instead he grabbed the large pair of tweezers and prepared to dig out the bullets stuck all over Derek's body. But the werewolf was right. Being human made him the biggest target and sometimes, it really fucking sucked.

"I need to get these bad boys out pronto."

"You're almost as good as avoiding things as I am." Stiles detected a hint of amusement in the werewolf's voice and for that he had to smile slightly.

"I run into danger and away from my personal issues, it's a gift," Stiles started with the bullet in Derek's shoulder, holding him down with one hand, "Now this is really going to suck. Like big time. These particular bullets were laced with Monkshood which is why you can't heal, and why they hurt the way they do."

"Just get them out."

"Ok, ok, just wanted to warn you." When Stiles dug the tweezers in and pulled out the bullet, Derek growled, his nails coming out to dig into the mattress.

"Get. Them. Out." Derek's voice was one big growl and Stiles worked faster, nearly taking a chunk of the werewolf's thigh out with the bullet buried deep in his flesh. Derek's hand grabbed Stiles' wrist tightly, and as they met eyes, the boy knew it was helping him deal with the pain.

"You're lucky it wasn't buckshot," Stiles yanked the bullet out of the werewolf's chest, happy to see that he was already beginning to heal. The poison hadn't been enough to shock his system, "Flip over, I know you have at least two in your back."

Muttering a string of swears, Derek turned himself over and Stiles got the full view of his back. He had the markings from the Dogfights, Scott had told him about those, but it was the symbol on his back that intrigued Stiles the most. He was reaching for it before he knew what he was doing, his fingertips tracing the pattern of it.

"You're tattoo…"

"Did a bullet go through it?" Something in Derek's voice sounded like worry, his muscles tensing.

"No, no it's fine," Stiles took his hands away to pull out another bullet, Derek seemed to relax when he heard that it wasn't damaged, "It's your family's symbol, isn't it?"

"Yeah. The triskele," Derek hissed as Stiles yanked out the last bullet, but he didn't move to turn around, "It's one piece of them that can't be taken away," Stiles' heart hurt for Derek then, because he knew better than anyone how hard it was hanging onto the ones you loved once they were gone, "You smell like pity, cut it out."

"Sorry…it's just, it makes sense," Stiles got up and started to put his first aid kit away. Melissa had made sure they all got some training in for when she wasn't around and it was always helpful, "Better than a big house full of meaningless material shit."

"Hey…" Derek stood up in front of him and Stiles' heart may have stopped momentarily, and the look in the werewolf's eyes only proved he had caught it. His warm hand squeezed Stiles' shoulder and he looked at Derek almost confused, "Are you hungry?"

"Dude, I'm a teenage boy. I'm literally always hungry."

"Come on, I'll make you something."

"You really don't have to do that. I'm sort of the master at throwing food together since I've been here by myself." Derek squeezed his shoulder again before letting his hand drop, pulling on a pair of sweat pants Stiles had gotten for him, and headed towards the kitchen.

"I'm cooking dinner. So just shut up and come help me."

"Yeah, yeah sure."

Domestic Derek Hale was slowing becoming one of Stiles' favorite things. And he realized as he followed the werewolf to the kitchen that this was his way of providing comfort. He wasn't really a man of words, but he found other ways.

And damn, if he didn't make a mean grilled cheese.


	4. Light My Fire

The house had been lined with mountain ash.

One moment, he'd been kissing Kate in his bedroom upstairs before the birthday party for his mother started. The next, he'd been knocked unconscious, waking up as he was being chained to a chair. He looked around for where the rest of the Hale's had gone, but the cries for help below made him realize exactly where all his family was.

They were trapped in the basement.

"Kate! Kate! Are you here?" Derek called out for her, struggling against the heavy chains that had been bound tight enough to hold him. His wolf cried out for escape, that this was danger, and he could smell smoke. It only took him moments to realize it was coming from below.

"Aw, Derek…You're lucky you're cute, sweetie, because you sure aren't smart. Still haven't figured this out yet, have you?" Kate appeared from the kitchen, tossing aside a bottle of gasoline as she walked towards him.

"What's going on?"

"I've been waiting for this day for a long time…pretending I cared about you, getting close to your family…Talia's party presented such a delicious opportunity." As Kate stepped closer, Derek struggled more, his eyes flashing blue. At the same time, her turned completely black.

"What?" Derek said softly, unsure what exactly it meant that her eyes had gone black. She only let out a small laugh.

"You really have no idea who your precious Kate really is, do you? She's been an interesting host, so full of hatred and lust for blood. The minute she summoned me I knew we'd get along. She's had her sights set on your family of mongrels for a long time, Der."

"What are you?" Derek had stopped struggling, realizing that it was useless and whatever stood in front of him was something more than human. How he hadn't realized it, he didn't know.

"A demon," Kate shrugged nonchalantly as she stepped forward, grabbing him by the hair as she forced his head backward, "And just like Kate here, my kind doesn't have any love for yours. Once we get topside, we're gonna ride you all like the dogs you are and I can't wait for that party to start. But enough about me…we have some business to finish here."

"Let my family go, they didn't do anything!"

"Der…that isn't how this works," She roughly released his hair and moved over to the cellar door where the screaming had increased, the smoke spilling out from under the door, "You've been a good little plaything, I admit, but Kate and I had a deal. She wanted help ridding Beacon Hills of those pesky wolves and I get a little bit of her soul to keep."

"Please just let them go…kill me, do whatever you want with me…just don't hurt them." Derek said this, defeated, knowing it was too late. And her smirk proved it.

"We're passed that point, unfortunately. But you get to die with them, so isn't that sweet? I mean, you will get to hear them all die beneath you first..." As she spoke, the floor started to give out, the fire beginning to move up into the house, "Looks like that's my cue to leave."

"WHO ARE YOU?" Derek's wolf took over, the shift coming over him as he yelled out. Needing to know the name of the creature who was about to destroy him and everyone he loved.

"Paimon."

Derek let out an anguished roar as she grinned, eyes still black as she opened the front door to leave, disturbing the mountain ash she'd placed. But she didn't make it out the door. Peter burst into the house, tackling Kate to the ground. He didn't wait for her to say anything before he buried his claws into her throat, the minute he did a black smoke spilled out of her body and seeped into the ground, disappearing completely.

"What the…" Peter started to say, shocked by what he saw, but Derek's growl made him come over to his nephew. The young werewolf fought to help free himself as he ran over to the basement door. Half the house was already lighting up in flames and the door gave way when he kicked it open. But the line of ash was so thick he couldn't cross it.

"Uncle Peter we need to get down there! They're all down there…they're trapped…" Derek's voice faded when he realized the screams had died away. The floor beneath him started to give way as the fire burst out from the basement, Peter pulled Derek back before he was burned.

"We need to go. Now." When Derek didn't move, Peter grabbed him by his shirt and started to pull him from the burning house, but Derek fought. He couldn't let them all die down there, not his family.

"Let me go! We need to help them!"

"Derek!"

"LET ME GO!" Derek roared at his uncle, but Peter turned him, grabbing his shoulders as they met gazes.

"Derek, look at me," Something in Derek compelled him to obey, and when he looked at his uncle, the werewolf's eyes flashed red. _Alpha_. The realization made Derek stop fighting because it only meant one thing, "They're gone. They're dead." Derek only nodded and he didn't fight Peter when he dragged him out of the burning house.

Gone. His mother, his father, Laura, Cora…his aunts, his uncles, his cousins. The entire Hale pack. Outside, the fire trucks had finally arrived on the property along with a squad car. When Derek met the eyes of Sheriff Stilinski, he looked pained, like he could feel the inside of Derek's chest where the hole began to form. As Peter started to talk to the police, giving some sort of statement, Derek couldn't stay there, not anymore.

"My sister sent me to the store to grab a few things and when I came back, Kate Argent had trapped everyone inside, including herself…"

He felt sick. He felt on the verge of shifting, ready to rip something apart because he needed to feel like there was something he controlled. Instead he disappeared into the woods, wolf howling out for all the members of the pack he lost. A wolf without a pack was nothing.

It was the last time Derek Hale ever cried.

* * *

"So we're picking up someone named Deaton. Isn't he an emissary?" Derek asked the question as he helped Stiles carry supplies into the garage. He ignored the other cars, including his father's truck, and went straight for his Jeep. He only really liked driving his baby.

"The one and only. He's been up north looking into some leads about stopping this demon epidemic and setting up safe houses. Apparently he told Scott he has some ground-breaking info we all need to research together or something."

"Why do we have to go get him?"

"We're his muscle. The road isn't exactly safe anymore, even if you do have Druid abilities." Stiles filled the back with weapons, food, camping supplies, a first aid kit, books, and pretty much anything he deemed important enough to bring along, his pillow included.

"You mean I'm his muscle." Derek smiled ever so slightly and Stiles glared at him.

"Just because I'm not a werewolf doesn't mean I can't defend myself. If you're going to bitch, I can always go by myself." Stiles glanced at the werewolf, one eyebrow raised, and something in his gaze made Stiles know he wasn't going to stay behind.

"You're not going alone. Now get in the car." Derek mumbled as he got into the passenger's seat and Stiles climbed in. The boy turned the radio up and grinned as they left the house.

"I love a good road trip!" Derek looked less than pleased.

It was miles from home did Stiles realize he forgot his winter jacket.

* * *

"Pull over."

"Nope. Not gonna happen." Stiles seemed hell bent on driving all night, but Derek could smell the exhaustion on him. Even his eyelids looked heavy.

"If you won't stop, then at least let me drive. I'm not letting you kill us."

"No one, I repeat no one, drives my baby but me." When Stiles said this, Derek rolled his eyes, the same angry look still on his face.

"You're an idiot," They drove in silence for a few moments before they passed a sign for a motel, and Derek hoped it wasn't run down or taken over by demons. Most places on the road were either safe for those with money, or a slaver hideout, "We're stopping at that motel so you can get a decent night's sleep."

"Dude, I haven't slept through the night in a year."

"Humor me, or I force you to let me drive." Stiles seemed to weigh his options, glancing at Derek who kept his face serious. When the boy sighed, Derek knew he won. They pulled up to the hotel and immediately noticed that it was demon proofed, which was a good sign. The owners were even more forthcoming when Stiles slid multiple hundred dollar bills across the counter. But of course there was only a single room available and all the cots were being used.

Derek truly believed that sometimes, his life was one big cosmic joke. He didn't wait to argue over the bed, instead he set up his spot on the floor while Stiles stared with his mouth slightly agape.

"You take the bed, I can literally sleep anywhere." Stiles said, and Derek could believe that, but he wouldn't let the boy get away so easily.

"You're the one who really needs sleep. And if anyone decides to check on us, the slave should be the one on the floor, not the owner." Derek had to avert his eyes when he spoke because he knew that Stiles hated being reminded what they legally were to each other.

"Fine. Just take some of this." Stiles handed him a few pillows and one of the blankets before going to take a shower. He'd gotten used to Stiles' scent, but the one he had trouble locking down was the one that confused Derek the most. He'd realized about a week ago it was arousal. And it didn't really make any sense to him, other than the fact that Stiles was a teenage boy and was probably just attracted to anything. Still…

Before he left the shower, Derek decided he needed to make sure Stiles had another level of protection. Something that made sure other supernatural creatures knew he wasn't free game. Working quickly, Derek started going through the clothes Stiles brought, rubbing them all over his face, breathing in and out to make sure his scent mixed with the boy's. There was that ache in his chest again, the one he didn't understand and it burned every time he inhaled the scent he'd become so familiar with. A scent that started to make him feel safe. And that was fucking terrifying.

He'd finished by the time Stiles came out of the shower, smelling completely of his own scent and something like sadness. Derek had already curled up on the floor and Stiles didn't wait to turn out the lights and crawl into bed.

"Night, Derek." Was whispered somewhere in the darkness, but the werewolf didn't answer back. The wolf inside of him whined to reply.

* * *

The last thing he remembered was watching the blood stream from his father's chest, the bullet shot from a gun in Stiles' hand. He felt his eyes turn black and that was when the screaming started inside of his head. So loud it echoed off his subconscious and forced his eyes open. The sound was everywhere now, and he couldn't tell where dreaming ended and reality began.

"Stiles!" He heard a voice but his screaming didn't stop until his breath did, chest heaving as he tried to draw in a breath he didn't have. And so he screamed until his lungs hurt.

"Stiles, breathe." The voice commanded but he couldn't comply. He couldn't do much of anything except ride the wave. His dad was out there dying somewhere and he couldn't save him. He never did.

In the darkness, Stiles reached out for the strong arms that tightly gripped his shoulders and drew close the warmth of another person. Safe. They were safe. He felt hot skin and he shrunk into it like a moth to a flame, his own skin covered in cold sweat. The arms came around him, though it was careful, like he was made of glass. Stiles pressed his forehead against their shoulder and tried to remember how to breathe. Forcing himself to inhale and exhale to the rhythms of their breaths.

Minutes passed, maybe a year, Stiles really couldn't know for sure. All that was left was the sound of breathing and the racing of his own heart, demanding to be heard. Because it was still in there, no matter how hard he tried to forget.

Fully awake, Stiles remained leaning into this warm body for another moment before his eyes shot open and he realized exactly who he was gripping onto. Why the bare, warm chest felt so strong and solid up against his own.

Derek.

"Oh fuck…" Stiles muttered and untangled himself from the werewolf who clearly must think he was insane. Derek stared at him which made things worse, and Stiles felt his face grow hot.

"That's why you never sleep." It wasn't a question because Derek knew it was the truth.

"Yeah I don't really love the whole 'nightmares turning to panic attacks' thing," There was a silence and he could tell that the werewolf was waiting for him to fill it, "I've always had panic attacks but the nightmares got bad around a year ago." _When I helped kill my dad. _But that part stayed in his head.

"You've been dealing with this alone for a year?"

"Yeah it really isn't that big of a deal. And I didn't mean to literally throw myself at you…I'm just not used to someone being there. Hence the reaction." Stiles thought back to all the times he'd woken up screaming alone. At least with Derek, he'd gotten grounded quicker if anything.

"It's fine," Derek stood up then and went to grab a bottle of water, setting on the bedside table, "Drink this, try and at least get some rest. Your body needs it."

And with that, Derek went back to his spot on the floor, leaving Stiles alone in the bed. He almost asked if Derek would stay on it with him, share one side so at least he'd feel a little less alone. But the words died on his lips. He wouldn't ask anything like that of the werewolf, not if it felt like a master demanding something of their slave. Stiles refused to ever be that. Just like he refused to fall asleep again.

Instead he listened to the sound of Derek breathing and tried to empty his mind of anything else.

* * *

Peter followed Lydia's scent like the predator he was. He'd woken up in the middle of the night and when he listened for her heartbeat, it was gone. She'd left the house—door wide open, car in the driveway—and he needed to find her. Something didn't feel right.

He chased her scent into the woods and he wondered if something had taken her, but there was no other scent. She must've left on her own free will and that made anger boil up within him. It wasn't safe out there, not alone, and she should've woke him up. Banshee or not, she wasn't a warrior.

"Hey!" He growled out when he finally found her. She stood in front of a giant tree stump and something about her looked almost surreal. Her red hair was loose and wild, her feet bare and covered in dirt. The moon was full enough to shine down on her like she was the focal point of the woods.

But even when he called her, she didn't answer. She reached out and placed her hand on the stump and Peter felt like the air itself thickened. He moved closer to the banshee, grabbing her shoulder as she let out an ear piercing scream that echoed through the woods. Peter couldn't let go of her, an electric flow of energy shooting up his arm where he held on.

"Lydia!" He yelled her name as he forced her to turn around, her eyes rolling back in her head as her legs gave out. Peter caught her before she fell, one hand coming up to touch her face as he listened to her pulse.

"Lydia, Lydia!" He said her name, shaking her slightly as he tried to wake her back up. She'd been affected by something in the woods and he hoped it wasn't something permanent. He was ready to run her back to Scott's when her eyes fluttered open.

"Hell is empty…" Her voice was barely a whisper and eyes looked faraway, like he wasn't even there.

"What? Lydia, what are you saying?"

"All the devils are here."

"Shit!" Right after she spoke, her eyes closed again and her body went limp. They couldn't stay out in the woods, not when half the town probably heard her scream. Peter's wolf instincts took over and before he could stop himself, he had his nose pressed against her throat. His lips touched her pulse point and he felt his eyes change, his wolf feeling pleased. _Protect. Mine. Protect._ He inhaled and exhaled deeply against her throat, marking her with his scent before gathering her in his arms. Now at least if they came across another creature, they would know she wasn't fair game.

"Hang on, Lydia." Peter said as he took off running back towards her home, pushing himself to go as fast as possible. His face didn't shift back to normal until they were inside the salted gates. Peter carefully placed Lydia on her bed before calling the Alpha, knowing she might need medical attention. After covering her with a blanket, the wolf inside Peter wanted to claw its way out, it wanted Peter to press his face into her neck again and never leave. Instead, the werewolf decided he was better off scent marking her clothes and anything else he could get his hands on that carried her scent. It wasn't until her voice caught him off guard did he finally stop, lowering the sweater that had been pressed against his face moments ago.

"Peter?" Just hearing her say his name made something in him feel pleased, a primal feeling, but he didn't move over to her.

"So you're not dead."

"Why are you smelling my sweater? Actually, why are you even in my room?" He could tell by the look on her face that she had no idea what happened. He placed the sweater down as he walked closer.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"Going to bed…?" She glanced over at her alarm clock and frowned, clearly confused, "Why are you sniffing my clothes at 4am?"

"You don't remember waking up and going out into the woods?"

"The woods?" When she said this, Lydia's eyes suddenly went wide and she moved the blanket, looking down at her dirty feet with something like fear in her eyes.

"I followed your scent out there and you were near some tree stump. You went unconscious," Lydia stood up suddenly and nearly fell again but Peter's arms came up to grab her elbows, "Easy…"

"It was the nemeton."

"The neme-what?" Lydia grabbed a handful of papers from her nightstand and showed Peter the dozens of sketches she had done, all the same, and all of a tree stump. The scared look in her eyes never left.

"I…I don't know how I know what it is. I've been dreaming about it but I didn't know it was real…" For a moment, Peter pictured Lydia wandering out there alone and he was surprised nothing had happened to her. Their eyes met and a part of Peter wanted to comfort her, but he didn't know how. It was this same moment Scott burst into the room with his mother, the alpha frowning as he sniffed the air.

"Have you been scent marking Lydia?" Scott said to Peter, the banshee looking at him with a mixture of confusion, anger, and something else. But the older werewolf didn't offer an explanation.

"I think we have bigger problems than that."

* * *

"You still haven't been sleeping."

"You can't know that for sure."

"Stiles, you've driven on the rumble strip five times in the last ten minutes." When Derek said this, Stiles didn't have a clever reply. The werewolf may not be able to smell fatigue, but he could tell by looking at the boy that he wasn't doing well.

"That doesn't mean anything."

"It means you'd rather get us killed then get some sleep. You're going to pull over, I'm going to drive, and I'm taking us somewhere for you to sleep. Now." Stiles seemed to obey direct commands better, and Derek did his best 'you'd-better-fucking-listen-to-me' face. When the Jeep slowed down, he knew he won.

"Listen, be gentle with my baby. No crazy maneuvers. I swear to God if you crash this Jeep…"

"I know how to drive, Stiles," Derek said calmly as they switched seats, Stiles grabbing his pillow as he wedged it between him and the window. He had the heat on now that they had gotten further north and Stiles was always freezing without his jacket, "Sleep. I'll find somewhere to stop."

"Mmmkay." Stiles muttered and Derek knew it wouldn't be long. The boy had been fighting sleep since he woke up from that nightmare.

Almost a half hour passed and Derek could hear Stiles' heart beat slower, his breathing deepen. And it was shortly after that the heat started blowing out cold air. Stiles was shivering by the time Derek turned it off and the werewolf cursed as he carefully reached his arm over and pulled Stiles towards him, the boy turning to press his body into Derek's to siphon the warmth. The werewolf inhaled the smell of their scents mixed, and his wolf felt pleased.

He pulled over at a small motel that looked like it was recently abandoned. All the lights were left on and the smell of sulfur was faint. Whatever demons that had come through hadn't been here in days. Locking Stiles in the Jeep, Derek made a quick sweep of the place, making sure to salt the room he'd chosen for them before going back for Stiles.

"Come on, I have a real bed for you."

"And a shower?" The boy muttered half asleep as he nearly fell out of the Jeep.

"Can't promise it'll be hot." That seemed to wake Stiles up more and he didn't look entirely happy about the situation. Still, Derek grabbed their stuff and he had barely walked into the room when he heard the shower start and Stiles cry out when it didn't warm up.

Derek barricaded the door, not wanting any surprises while they slept, and he changed into some shorts, figuring that sleeping naked wasn't really an option when sharing a room with another person. When Stiles emerged, he clearly wasn't thrilled, but Derek wasn't focused on that, instead his eyes were trailing along the pale, freckled skin of Stiles' chest. It was covered in scars.

"Um…"

"You really have been through a lot." Derek hadn't realized just how scarred up he was until now, and he had plenty. The slight smell of arousal faded to something different, something slightly sad.

"Gives me character. I'm like a human pin cushion," He shrugged like it didn't matter, goose bumps all over his skin as he crawled into bed shivering, "My guess is you'd look worse than me if you could actually get a scar."

"You'd be right."

They were quiet for a while, Derek finally turning off the lights in the hopes that Stiles would be able to sleep. But the werewolf could almost hear the shivering coming from the bed next to his and he knew that the cold shower, on top of this place not having heat, wasn't helping the human get to sleep. Sighing, Derek got up and went over to Stiles' bed.

"Move over."

"What?"

"Move. Over."

"Dude, you have your own bed," Before Stiles could say anything else, Derek pulled up the covers, "What the hell!" But he then slipped into bed beside Stiles, turning on his side as he pulled Stiles close against him, the boy's back against his chest. Cold skin against burning hot.

"Oh…" Stiles said with somewhat shaky breath and Derek knew it wasn't from the cold now. There was something nervous in there too, and that arousal that accompanied him whenever the werewolf got close.

"Don't get a boner."

"Says the guy who's basically forcing a cuddle out of me."

"We're not cuddling," When Derek said this, that seemed to make the boy go quiet and he thought he sensed disappointment but he couldn't be sure, "Wolves do this. You sleep beside your pack. I used to sleep in the same bed as my sisters when we were little." He hadn't said that aloud in a long time, and when Stiles hesitantly reached up to cover Derek's hand, he held his breath.

"Are we pack?" The voice was so soft it was barely a whisper. But Derek heard it.

"I haven't had a pack in a long time," Silence fell between them, but the werewolf knew the answer. Knew it by the way the wolf inside of him howled to respond, "But yeah, we're pack," Stiles seemed to become less tense then, but he still shivered and Derek could feel just how cold he really was. Derek pulled him closer and felt ever single scar that he wanted to learn the story behind, "Relax."

The werewolf started sucking out some of the tension in Stiles and the boy seemed to feel it, the shivering soon stopping and he smelled calm for once. He was always wound up like a live wire in the sand.

"Night, Derek." He muttered, and this time, the werewolf found his voice.

"Goodnight, Stiles."

* * *

When Stiles woke up with his face pressed into Derek's chest, he was pretty sure he was actually having a decent dream for once. Except when he realized he wasn't dreaming. Check that off of the list of ways that don't suck to wake up. Especially since Derek was still sleeping, and seeing him without the use of his intimidating eyebrows was something almost beautiful. Like the years of pain got washed away when he slept.

"Why are you staring at me?" Derek spoke with his eyes closed and Stiles' mouth hung open for a second before he responded.

"I was just making sure you weren't dead."

"You're a shitty liar." The slightest of smiles crossed Derek's lips and Stiles catalogued that in his brain as one of those images he was never allowed to forget.

"My dad used to say that."

"Anyone with a brain would say that."

"Smartass." Stiles mumbled before getting up, thankful they didn't actually discuss the fact that they'd pretty much spooned the whole night. That was the kind of awkward he liked to avoid. Instead he tossed Derek a honey bun, inhaled one of his own, and changed into what may be his only semi-clean shirt left. Luckily they'd reach Deaton today.

"We'd better leave before any demons come back." Derek commented, and they did just that. An actual night's rest made Stiles feel like a real person again, and since the roads were pretty bare nowadays, he had no problem speeding down the highway. Most people holed up in their homes, scavenged, enslaved people, were captured, or hunted nowadays. At least food was still getting made. When that went, they'd really be in trouble.

Hours later they made it up into the mountains were Deaton keep his refugee camp pretty much safe from everything. The guards on duty had to move the mountain ash to let Derek inside. The emissary had spent months up here with other emissaries and volunteers, making a safe place for humans and werewolves alike that needed protection from demons.

"Come on, big guy, Deaton's probably in his infirmary."

Stiles patted Derek's shoulder as they headed to where Deaton expected them. The entire camp was an old resort and the emissary spent his days helping injured people and devising new ways to defend against demons. They found him pouring a bright yellow liquid into small bottles, the entire storage room filled with everything from dried herbs to first aid supplies.

"Stiles, good to see you," Deaton smiled softly at the boy before his eyes went to Derek, "And Mr. Hale. Glad you've joined us." They shook hands and Derek simply nodded, Stiles forgot just how silent the werewolf could be.

"So here we are, your escorts back to Beacon Hills ready to help fight the forces of darkness. What do you got for us, D-man?"

"It's slightly more complicated than fighting the forces of darkness. But if my theory's correct, we might be able to close off the demon's path onto the mortal plane."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hang on…do you mean we can stop demons from coming up from Hell?" When Stiles said this, he met Derek's gaze before looking back to Deaton who had a slight smile though it didn't meet his eyes.

"Something like that, yes. It wasn't just a single door that was open, it was all of them. As long as they remain open, any demon can come up."

"So shut the doors, shut off the demons." Derek said softly.

"That can't be so hard. How many doors can there be?"

"Dozens maybe hundreds." When Deaton said this, Stiles sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

"Yeah we definitely need to get back to Scott. I'm hoping you have at least some info on these doors?"

"They call them Hellmouths, and there's one active in Beacon Hills." When Deaton said this, Stiles let out a somewhat bitter laugh.

"Why am I not surprised?"


	5. I Wanna Be Your Dog

He liked the feeling of bone cracking under his hands. It was like a piece of music, a song, and it begged to be played.

But it was always like this in the underground rings. Most of his opponents were sad shells of the wolves they once were. They had been beaten, forced to submit, and he knew many of them welcomed death.

Peter Hale refused to die.

"How much are you willing to wager?"

"$200 on me. $275 if I lose," Peter leaned close to the bookie with a dark smile on his lips, "But you know I never lose."

"Wouldn't get cocky, Hale. Everyone has their day to die."

"Well I can assure you, mine isn't today."

But he was fighting one big werewolf. It didn't matter though, even when this wolf let out a roar and the crowd cheered in the hopes they could take out the alpha with no master. The wolf with no pack. But Peter always fought like he had nothing left to lose because really, he didn't. When his house went up on smoke, the world came soon after. The Hale's may have been wealthy, but money didn't matter when you were a werewolf. They were only pets now.

He bit into the other wolf's bare throat because sometimes, Peter liked the feel of flesh and blood in his teeth. The crowd cheered his name, the body fell, and he collected $400 to bet again. He knew entering himself into fights was dangerous, but he'd reach the end of the line eventually and he planned to go out fighting.

Home was an old warehouse outside of Beacon Hills. And the ring of salt around the place was about a foot thick. Not to mention the concealment symbols he'd drawn in blood. No demon was going to find him. It wasn't glamorous. If anything he fucking hated the fact he survived off canned food and slept on layered blankets he'd scavenged. But he had books and that was what kept him human. That, and the hope that somewhere his nephew was at least alive. He couldn't be the only Hale left. He just couldn't.

"The elusive Mr. Hale."

He heard the voice before he saw her, a woman and two patrol guards had followed him out of the abandoned factory where the fights took place.

"Apparently not as elusive as I'd like to be."

"You're a very talented fighter. I heard so much about you, I had to come down and see for myself," She stepped closer and her eyes flashed black. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all, "But as I'm sure you're aware of, it's against the law for your kind to be out without a collar. And something tells me you have no master."

"You have no way of knowing that."

"Don't try and be clever, dog. I'm not a patient demon," She took a step forward but Peter didn't move. He wasn't going to appear weak in front of her, "Do you know who I am?"

"I don't make it my business to know every demon in Beacon Hills."

"Malphas. I'm sure you've heard of me before." The smile she gave was laced with venom and Peter felt something in him break. He knew exactly who she was. And there was no way he was leaving this alleyway a free man.

"I may've, in passing." When Peter said, face full of defiance, the demon raised her hand up and then clenched her fist, forcing the werewolf to fall hard to his knees. She held him there and no amount of struggling could free him from her hold.

"You still have quite a lot of fight in you, it isn't something I see often. You'll need it to survive my Dogfights. Last long enough and I might be able to find you a decent home. Defy me…" When she said this, her fist tightened and Peter felt invisible hands clench tightly around his throat, "And you will suffer the consequences."

"You…do not…own me." Peter sputtered out the words before she loosened her hold, eyes changing back to normal.

"Unfortunately for you, I do. Any unaccounted for werewolf is immediately under my custody. Why else would I be residing in such a desolate place as Beacon Hills? I'm in the business of slavery, Hale, and you happen to be exactly what I sell. Bind him." As she said the command, the two guards came forward and Malphas didn't release her hold. Peter growled, his eyes flashing red as they secured him in chains, forcing a collar around his neck and instantly he felt his wolf be forced back into him.

"I won't be your fucking pet!" He growled out but the demon looked almost amused.

"You're going to be trouble," She shook her head before looking at one of the guards, "Bring him straight to Alastor. Tell him our new arrival needs a lesson in manners. I expect a full report. And as for you," She looked at Peter, eyes once again black, "Welcome to your new life bound in servitude."

Alastor was good at what he did. Almost disturbingly so.

"Screaming isn't a sign of weakness, Peter. If anything it proves you're alive. So why don't you scream for me? Pretty please?"

They'd been at it for hours, or at least it felt that way. Maybe it was days. Normally Peter would heal fast, but this demon was an expert at torturing werewolves. It had started off with ripping off his fingernails but quickly progressed to slicing him open, sprinkling wolfsbane in his chest, and then burning the wound. But still Peter refused to scream, he didn't want to be weak, didn't want to give in.

"Fuck you." Peter spat out wearily and the demon in front of him frowned. He hadn't even chosen an intimidating host, yet the little old man didn't need to be threatening. His work was all the intimidation he needed.

"Peter, Peter, Peter…you're really making this much harder than it needs to be," The demon pressed his lips against Peter's ear, "Just scream, let it out. Scream and this can end."

"No." He wouldn't be weak. He wouldn't give in. He was an Alpha and he could endure. He was a survivor.

"Suit yourself," Alastor said with a shrug as he grabbed a long, razor sharp blade and dragged it down Peter's chest, skinning off the flesh there as the werewolf let out a growl of pain. Before the wound could start to heal, the demon sprinkled wolfsbane onto the raw flesh, rubbing it in with his bare hand, "Looks like I'll have to make you."

"Do your worst." Peter hissed out and Alastor let out a laugh.

"You'll regret saying that, but if you insist." The demon grabbed a bottle of lighter fluid from his table of tools, squirting enough on Peter's chest to set the whole room ablaze.

"Wait…"

"You can't back out now, Peter." Before the werewolf could even reply, the demon threw a lit match at him and immediately his chest caught flame, the fire overtaking his body as he thought back to the night where he listened to his entire family burn to death. He smelled charred skin and the pain was blinding.

And he started screaming.

"Good! Very good!" Alastor cried out, clapping his hands together as Peter tried to shut his eyes to keep the flames out. But his skin could only take so much. He felt ice cold liquid pour down on him, but even that burned. The very air stung, "I think we're going to get along, you and I."

"I…."

"Don't try and speak, you need to preserve your strength so you can heal. We've only just started." Peter couldn't open his eyes, but the words were enough. He let out a scream so loud it hurt his lungs and all the demon did was laugh.

Day 1 of 1,074.

* * *

"Hellmouths?" Scott repeated the word and looked at Deaton who, as always, seemed calm about the entire situation. He'd just arrived with Stiles and Derek and it seemed his news was worth seeing everyone together in person.

"There were four main gateways to hell that exist. One in Ohio, one in Chile, one in California, and one located in Wyoming. That is the entrance that set off a chain reaction and opened all the doors. I've heard rumors that two brothers opened it."

"Then all we need to do is shut the one in Wyoming, right?" Scott asked but the way Deaton looked at him proved otherwise.

"Unfortunately it won't be that simple. They need to all be closed individually to stop the flow of demonic activity. Each Hellmouth attracts the supernatural to it which is why Beacon Hills is such a hotbed…if we were located near one of the larger gates, I'm sure we'd be in a much more dire situation."

"But there _is_ another one in California…" Lydia added in and Deaton nodded slightly.

"There was one. Back in 2003, the entire Hellmouth was destroyed there and the town is said to be in ruins. But it might be a good place to start looking for answers. I believe if we can close all of these gateways, we'll be able to prevent demons from ever coming up again." Looking at Deaton, Scott knew it was their best shot and his eyes traveled to Stiles, Lydia, and Kira who all seemed to think the same thing.

"Looks like we're taking another road trip, big guy." Stiles said as he patted Derek on the shoulder.

"I should come along. If the nemeton is one of these Hellmouths, maybe I can get find someone at this other one." Lydia said, looking to Scott who nodded in approval.

"I'm going." Peter said without a second thought but Deaton piped in before anyone could reply.

"The nemeton is a much smaller version of this other Hellmouth. There may still be residual supernatural activity so you'll need to take extra precautions." Scott looked over at Lydia and Stiles whose scent had both been marked by Derek and Peter. Something told the Alpha that these two wolves were some of the best protection they had; Scott hadn't even really scent marked Kira. He knew it meant more than either Stiles or Lydia really knew.

"We'll bring a whole arsenal if we have to," Stiles looked at Scott, "Someone needs to stay here and make sure Beacon Hills still has protection in case what goes bump in the night decides to start…bumping."

"Me and Scott can stay here. Just make sure you check in?" Kira said with a slight smile and Lydia returned it.

"You know we will."

"So what's the name of the town?" It was Derek who spoke up then, arms crossed with the same stoic expression on his face.

"It's about four hours south of here, though I doubt any of you have heard of it." Deaton said as he looked at everyone.

"Try me." Peter said with a slightly smug expression before Deaton finally said the name.

"Sunnydale."

* * *

"This was a town?" Lydia asked as they all carefully walked closer to the giant crater in the earth. Caution tape surrounded the entire massive hole and all that was left was a construction sign that read 'Project Rebuild Sunnydale' that had been spray painted on. Night had fallen, and the entire view before them was just eerie.

"Was being a key word…" Stiles muttered, not quite believing what they were seeing.

"I remember this," Peter said softly as he stepped forward to glance down into the hole, "On the news they said it was some natural disaster. They evacuated everyone but the town still went under."

"No natural disaster could cause this level of destruction. There's nothing left down there." Lydia put a hand on Peter's shoulder as she leaned over to look in.

"Guess it really is a bitch destroying a Hellmouth," Stiles glanced down before he looked back at the other three, his eyes widening slightly, "We don't have to level Beacon Hills, do we?"

"From what Deaton said, we should be able to close the Hellmouth, not destroy it. I don't think I sense anything…" Lydia closed her eyes, trying to latch on to anything, but Stiles figured it was hopeless at this point.

"I think whatever power was down there was wiped out when the town went under," Derek said as suddenly, both he and Peter's eyes started to glow, a growl coming from the older werewolf's throat, "Something else is here."

Stiles felt Derek move closer and he himself instantly got in a fighting stance, pulling the knife from his pocket and a bottle of holy water in the other hand. Lydia stepped closer to Peter as seven people climbed out of the hole, from where, Stiles couldn't be sure. But the moment Derek and Peter caught their scent, they shifted. That wasn't good.

"You're in our territory, dogs," One of the people spoke, inhaling before his eyes landed on Stiles, "But you did bring us a snack." The moment he said this, the faces of the seven people changed, scrunching up as they all barred their fangs. No, this definitely wasn't good.

"Derek…don't do anything stupid. Vampires aren't good to fuck with." Stiles muttered in the werewolf's ear.

"Might want to listen to your master, boy. Sunnydale belongs to us, always has. Now you can leave your little boy here and be on your way, or we can gut you. Take your pick." The vampire said and Derek let out a warning growl.

"What the fuck is she? I never smelled anything like her…" One of the women called out and Lydia's eyes were wide.

"We can try her too."

"I'll make you eat your fangs first." Peter spat out and the vampire laughed, the others joining in.

"Well if it's going to be like that…" With these words, the vampires sprang forward and Stiles immediately slammed his foot into the construction sign, breaking off a decent piece of it as he tucked his knife away, grabbing the piece of wood instead. As a vampire came at him, Stiles ripped the top off his holy water and splashed some on the woman. She let out a hiss and Stiles rammed the piece of wood into her heart as she exploded into ash.

"Go for the heart and neck!" Stiles called out to Derek and Peter, both who were taking on two vampires at once. Or at least they were, until one vampire grabbed hold of Lydia and sank his fangs into her throat. She let out a blood curdling scream and the vampire started gagging on her blood, but Peter let out a roar of fury, running back to her. He leapt into the air and as he did, his entire body shifted suddenly into the form of a massive black wolf, clothes tearing right off his back. The vampire choking on Lydia's blood only had a second to be surprised before Peter tore open his throat, ripping all the way through until he burst into ash under the wolf.

"Peter!" Lydia cried out as another vampire came for them, but Stiles felt himself be shoved hard into the ground as a pair of fangs tore into his throat. Somewhere, he heard Derek let out a furious roar. Stiles reached for the wooden stake, but it was out of his reach. And the vampire was taking as much blood as she could. Using all his strength, Stiles flipped them over, feeling her fangs rip out as she pushed him off. He had seconds to grab the stake before she latched onto him again.

"Really? I can't be that good…" Stiles struggled out the words before plunging the stake in from her back, ash falling all over his clothing, "Now that's gross."

Peter was already mauling another vampire as Derek did his best to fight two of them on his own. The last one had gone for Lydia and the snarl coming from Peter proved that he'd make quick work of that vampire. Just like the vampires were doing to Derek.

"Derek!" Stiles ran over to him as he took blow after blow, fighting back despite being outnumbered. Stiles grabbed onto one vampire and forced him to the ground as he felt a fist collide into his cheek. He felt his lip split as the vampire landed another blow to his stomach. Stiles pinned him down, the vampire hissing as he tried to hit Stiles again, but the boy buried the stake into his heart and he felt the body turn to ash beneath him. Before Stiles could stand, he felt another pair of fangs latch roughly to his throat, and angry roar sounding out as Derek ripped the last vampire off of him and swiftly broke her neck, ash raining to the ground.

"Have you completely lost your mind?" Derek said angrily as his face changed back and he pulled Stiles to his feet, glancing at him to assess any damage before meeting his gaze. The werewolf looked beyond pissed off.

"Last time I checked it was still all there?" Stiles said this confused and Derek grabbed hold of his shirt, pushing him hard against the side of the Jeep, "Dude, what the hell?"

"You could've been killed!"

"Yeah, and I'm not, so you can stop all this dramatic crap. You're wrinkling my shirt," When Derek didn't move, Stiles frowned, "Don't pull the 'Oh Stiles you're a human, you're a liability, you shouldn't fight' shit. Because it's bull and you know it."

"You're not weak, but you might be stupid. You run into a fight like you have nothing to lose."

"Maybe I don't. Or maybe you don't like the idea that a human can protect you," Stiles shoved Derek off and the werewolf let out a low growl, eyes glowing blue, "I told you, I can take care of myself."

"You're reckless."

"You just don't want to end up in an auction house again. You want to protect your own ass which is why you decided to rub your scent all over my stuff, isn't it?" When Stiles said this, Derek's eyes widened. Scott had told him about the scent marking and the only explanation Stiles had was that Derek was making sure his way of life was secured. Nothing else made sense.

"Is that what you think this is?"

"What else would it be?"

"Fuck you." Derek spat out, pushing Stiles against the Jeep again, and so the boy pushed right back.

"Well fuck you too then!"

Stiles stared at him, eyes wild, ready to fight or close himself off whatever happened next. Derek had his hands balled into Stiles' shirt, pressing him hard against the Jeep. Their eyes met and Stiles saw about a million different emotions pass through the werewolf and none of them he understood.

But then Derek's lips crashed into his and he forgot everything else.

It wasn't soft, or gentle in any way. Stiles felt his cut lip sting as blood entered his mouth, lips opening to taste whatever part of Derek he could. The wolf's stubble ground into his chin and Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek's waist, pulling him close enough that their bodies met and warmth flooded between them. The lack of blood made him dizzy and when the wolf bit softly down on his lip, Stiles nearly whined as Derek pulled back as suddenly as he started, growling as he grabbed the keys from the boy's pocket and got in the driver's side.

"Get in."

Stiles obeyed, nearly tripping over his own two feet as he climbed in. Lydia followed after with Peter still in wolf form jumping in beside her. Stiles could feel her eyes on him, wanting to know exactly what just happened. Thing was, he wanted to know too.

"Why doesn't Peter change back?" He finally asked as Derek sped off, leaving the remains of Sunnydale behind them.

"He won't until he's ready," Was all Derek said, remaining silent for an uncomfortably long time. Stiles refused to go to sleep but he was losing the fight after all the blood he lost, "Get some sleep."

"Are we going to talk about this?" Stiles asked suddenly, realizing that he needed to throw it out there or he'd never be able to rest. You didn't just kiss someone like that and ignore it.

"No." Derek's eyes stayed on the road when he answered, and Stiles felt something in him sink.

"Fine." He turned to lean his head against his windows, shutting his eyes because he knew that he wasn't going to get an answer now. Maybe not ever.

But he didn't sleep. Not with the taste of Derek Hale still on his lips.

* * *

"I think you like being a wolf more than you like being a man."

Even after the four hour drive home, Peter still hadn't changed back from a wolf. Luckily Lydia had slept most of the awkward ride home and avoided the tension that was clearly ready to burst between Derek and Stiles. Those two were idiots of epic proportions. The more time she spent with them, the more she realized how completely oblivious they both were. At least Derek had made some kind of move…

And then there was Peter.

She didn't quite want to acknowledge whatever feelings she may have towards the werewolf, so she ignored them. Which made her a hypocrite but it didn't matter. She was, after all, Lydia Martin.

"How am I supposed to feed you?" Lydia asked as she made herself a sandwich, really needing sleep more than anything. Wolf Peter just growled softly at her before sitting patiently by her side.

"You know how completely freaky this is, right?" Yellowish eyes gazed back at her and she sighed, offering him half her sandwich as he swallowed it whole, "I need to stop asking the wolf who can't respond to me questions, I know. I really do need to sleep."

When Peter followed her to her room, Lydia looked back at him with a frown.

"You have your own room," When he didn't move, Lydia crossed her arms and engaged in one of the strangest staring contests she ever had in her life. But when he still didn't move, she decided not to let him stop her, "I'm going to take a shower and don't you even think about trying to see me naked."

Wolf Peter gave her a little noise of agreement before sitting down outside the bathroom door. Why he wouldn't part from her, she didn't know. But after a long shower of washing blood and vampire ash from her hair, she felt slightly better. And Peter was still standing guard.

"You do realize that this house is pretty much safe from everything, right?" He still didn't budge, so Lydia walked over to her door and opened it wide, pointing out into the hallway, "Come on, I need to sleep." Peter whined but Lydia raised her eyebrows and he finally made his way out of her room.

It wasn't 20 minutes before she decided to check on him, figuring that maybe he needed help changing back, even though Derek said he'd do it when he was ready. When Lydia opened her door, she nearly tripped over him. The wolf was spread out in front of her door, lifting up his head when she appeared.

"Peter…" He let out another whine and Lydia couldn't exactly believe the words that were about to come out of her mouth, but they did, "Alright. Just don't drool all over the sheets, they're expensive."

He followed her back into the bedroom and hopped onto bed beside her. Lydia had to admit she felt slightly better with his presence there, and she absentmindedly slipped her fingers into his thick fur, freezing when she realized she was petting Peter Hale. But the moment she stopped, his wet nose nudged her hand, urging her to continue. Briefly, she thought about what it would be like to sleep in bed beside a human Peter. To hear him mutter in his sleep, feel his warm skin against hers. She felt herself blush in the darkness as wolf Peter moved up, pressing his nose against her throat.

"You're really not a fan of personal space, are you?"

She remembered what Scott said about Peter scenting her, about the fact that he wanted to make sure any enemies knew she was protected. That she had affected him enough to change him completely into a wolf. There was a piece of her that feared the killer she knew he was, but a big part of her saw beyond all that. Sometimes she touched him and felt the pain that had followed him for years, and it was then she felt the urge to protect, to keep him safe.

Lydia knew that showing your neck was a sign of submission to wolves, of acceptance. She reached up to brush her hair aside for him as she leaned her head to the side, bearing her throat to him. The wolf gave an almost satisfied growl as she felt his tongue lap at her skin, stopping only to rub his nose against her.

"I can't believe I'm letting you lick me." If a wolf could laugh, she knew Peter would right now, but instead he settled in beside her, nuzzling against her neck. And as her eyes closed, Lydia couldn't really deny that she felt safer with him there.

She fell asleep with her hand buried in his fur and his muzzle against her throat.

* * *

"Peter?"

When Peter heard the voice, he kept his eyes closed, determined to remain where he was. His arm snaked around the warm waist it was draped over and pulled the body close, burying his nose ever closer against the neck as he inhaled deeply. _Mine_. His wolf whispered and a low growl sounded in his throat.

"Peter!" The voice got more insistent and the werewolf groaned before his eyes opened, seeing pale skin and red hair.

"Can't a wolf get some sleep?"

"You're naked."

"And?"

"You're naked in my bed." He finally looked into Lydia's eyes but he didn't see anything like fear there. He knew exactly where he was, and he remembered exactly how she bore her neck to him last night.

"I don't really see the problem." Peter smirked at her, listening as her heart raced. She tried to look like he didn't affect her, but he could smell how she felt and for the first time in a long time he felt like he had some kind of purpose.

And that was something.

"I'm surprised you're not still a wolf."

"I wanted to wake up as myself," His eyes traveled to the column of her throat, still wanting to press his lips there when he saw the bite mark on the other side. The sight of it made something in him want to roar, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay. Lucky for me, my blood isn't very safe for anyone to drink. It's a banshee thing," Lydia threw a blanket over his lower half before sitting up and stretching, "Nothing a big glass of orange juice can't fix." When she said this, Peter reached up and touched his fingertips to the bite, sucking out whatever pain may linger there. He wanted it to heal fast.

"Are we going to talk about how you've decided to scent mark me?" When Lydia said this, he pulled his hand away and chose to look up at the ceiling. It wasn't exactly a conversation he was looking forward to.

"There isn't anything to say." Peter sat up and placed his feet on the ground, back to her.

"It isn't a crime to care about someone. It doesn't make you weak either," He felt her hand rest on his shoulder and his eyes closed, "I bared my neck to you so obviously I'm not against what's happening."

"For a long time, I was all I had. Survive or die and that was simply what my life had become. But you…" He laughed softly before glancing back at her, "I'm a monster. And I like it, I really do. But you make me feel more like a man." He could smell her surprise, her content, and even her desire and that alone made him turn back around.

"Peter…" She said his name softly and before she could protest, he brought his lips to her throat, wanting to feel her as a man instead of a wolf. Her hands grabbed his shoulders and his wrapped around her waist, his lips parting to bite softly down on her pulse point. He wanted to leave his own mark, show that she was _his_, even if she didn't know it yet. A soft moan escaped her lips and he bit down harder, sucking on her skin before trailing his lips further up under her jaw. He felt her fingernails dig into his shoulders and a pleased growl escaped him.

He could've stayed against her skin longer, could've marked her in a dozen different places until they both couldn't stand it. But instead he pulled back, gently touching the tender marks he made before starting to heal them. Muttering an apology before she placed her hand over his.

"You don't need to heal them," He looked at her slightly surprised and she smiled softly, "I _have_ dated werewolves before, I know you have weird ways of showing affection. That's what good cover-up is for."

"You've been with other werewolves?" As if sensing his jealousy, Lydia leaned in and placed a light kiss on his cheek before getting out of bed and going over to her closet.

"You might want to put on some pants before we meet up with everyone."

"Maybe you should take yours off." When he said this, Lydia whipped her head around and pointed a finger at him.

"Don't be creepy."

"Whatever you say, mistress." He stood up off her bed, giving Lydia the full view of his body and her eyes stayed on his, looking amused and annoyed all at once as her hands rested on her hips.

"Don't start with that again, you know we're way past that." When she said this, Peter felt his gaze soften. Because all at once it seemed to really hit him that this was real, this was his life, and no longer was he a play thing for demons. He was loved.

"I know."

* * *

"So we're really not going to talk about this at all?"

"No."

Stiles was ready to actually physically fight Derek if it would get a reaction out of him. They didn't talk when they got home, or when Derek leeched the pain out of Stiles, or when they ate dinner, or the next morning. He finally cornered the werewolf while they worked on making rock-salt shotgun shells.

"You can't just hate-kiss someone and then pretend it never happened. Like it or not, you kissed me, dude."

"Hate-kiss?"

"That's what you got out of all that? Jesus Christ…" Stiles muttered as he put down what he was working on and turned to look at Derek. Derek who was about as easy to read as a brick wall.

"I don't hate you. It just happened. It isn't a big deal so just shut up about it." Derek wouldn't even look at him and Stiles was pretty sure that was the worst part. He let silence fall over them for a few minutes before daring to speak again.

"Is this about Kate?"

"What did you just say?" Derek looked at him then and there was something like fear and anger in his eyes. It was so filled with emotion, Stiles almost shrunk away from him.

"Kate. As in, Kate Argent. I know she started the fire…and I know she used you."

"You don't know anything." Derek nearly growled and Stiles hated to dig into old wounds, but it was time now. They couldn't keep running.

"I know more than I'd like to," Silence fell between them before Stiles dared to tell the story he'd been keeping inside of him for months, "You saw my dad night that night, didn't you? He told me. He told me how he thought he'd failed your family because he didn't show up in time. I remember it was before things got really bad and before people knew about demons. But my dad had been watching Kate for a while and he knew she had summoned a powerful demon to possess her. By the time he got to your house, it was already on fire. He always used to tell me that the Hale's were good people and how Talia would help him whenever he needed something for a case. My dad never stopped feeling guilty about that night, that maybe if he'd come by sooner, he could've stopped Kate. And then afterwards you and Peter disappeared. Once things got bad, he always said that we'd have to help you if you ever came back to town. So I came the minute I knew you were for sale."

"It wasn't his fault…" Derek's voice was nearly a whisper, clearly not knowing the full story. But Stiles knew. He had for years.

"Well it wasn't yours either. If he'd had gotten there sooner…maybe things would've been different. I wish I could fix all the pain she caused you, but I can't. I don't know how."

"That isn't your job, Stiles."

"Isn't it though? I bought you, I'm supposed to take care of you. I am your master, right?" He said it bitterly, looking down at his hands. Derek's warm ones came to cover his and he dared to meet the werewolf's gaze.

"You know that's not who you are."

"Well, you're not Kate." Derek actually smiled sadly at that, looking down. It was then Stiles knew just about how fucked up the pair of them were, hanging on to blame like every mistake had been their fault.

"I hate that you know about all that."

"Makes sense considering you're like the complete opposite of an open book," Stiles offered him a slight smile, "We've all got our shit, I know I do. But maybe it would help if we actually told each other things…like explain why one of us might decide to kiss the other one?" He dared to glance at Derek with slight hope, and when the werewolf pulled his hands away, it was like his wall went back up.

"You piss me off."

"See? I told you it was a hate-kiss." When Stiles said this, Derek glared at him so strongly that he actually went silent.

"I know you're not weak because I've seen you fight. But when I think about something happening to you…" A whine escaped Derek's lips. He actually fucking _whined_. Stiles felt his mouth open and Derek's glare only returned, "Why do you think I scent marked you?"

"Because you want to protect me."

"I'm so fucking bad at this…" Derek muttered and all at once a sly grin crossed Stiles' lips, the realization hitting him.

"You like me."

"Tolerate might be a better word." Even with the roughness in his voice, Stiles saw past that. He saw the shyness there, the caution. And it was beautiful.

"Oh no…you care about me. Which is totally awesome because I care about you too. Even though you're a Sourwolf who's better at communicating in a series of grunts and glares than actual words."

"Shut up." Derek said this but a slight smile was on his lips. Stiles leaned forward, placing both hands on the arms of Derek's chair.

"Make me." It was bold, he could admit that, but knowing that Derek Hale actually had feelings for him inspired something like courage within him. He'd fought demons, monsters, and other various forces of darkness, but this was something different. This was the sort of fear that made him feel alive.

There was a brief second of hesitation that nearly made Stiles draw back, but when Derek glanced at his lips, a soft noise coming from his throat, Stiles stayed still for once. Or he did, until Derek moved forward and pressed his lips against his. Stiles kissed him back, not daring to move his hands until Derek's reached out and pulled him into his lap. The boy took the opportunity to press himself closer, itching hands grazing stubble and trailing up to wind his fingers through Derek's soft hair. Parts of him were angled and sharp, but his lips were soft, even when they kissed like Stiles might disappear.

He knew Derek could smell his arousal, he probably had on and off for weeks, but there was no doubt in Stiles' mind that he could feel it now too. And as the werewolf's tongue flicked across Stiles' bottom lip, he ground his hips against Derek's; eager for friction, for contact, for anything and he couldn't stop himself. He felt Derek's hands squeeze where they gripped his back and Stiles couldn't hold back the moan that escaped his lips, causing Derek to bury his face into the crook of Stiles' neck. He felt teeth on his pulse point, the hot wetness from the werewolf's mouth that threatened to burn him up. Derek was going to leave a mark. It was only when Stiles' hands reached down and dared to touch the heated skin underneath the werewolf's shirt, because he _could_ now, did Derek suddenly stop.

They were both breathing heavy, something Stiles hadn't noticed until now, and for a second they mirrored each other's breaths, Stiles not minding the fact that he still felt lips against his skin.

"Too much?" When Stiles said this, all he got was a nod, realizing he was still practically glued to Derek, his uncomfortable boner still very much a thing, "That was pretty…intense."

"Yeah…" Derek muttered, nuzzling his nose against Stiles' skin before pulling back to finally meet his gaze. His eyes were glowing blue. And from where Stiles was sitting, he wasn't the only one turned on. That alone made him blush.

"I didn't mean to throw myself at you. Insert joke about teenage hormones here." Stiles offered him a slight smile but Derek's eyes were on the mark he'd made on the boy's neck.

"We should take this slow."

"Yeah, you're probably right," When he said this, Derek's eyebrows raised slightly as he eyed their proximity and Stiles detached himself from his lap before sitting back in his own chair, "But , you know, anytime you feel like doing that again. Won't get any complaints from this guy."

"You're ridiculous." Derek actually smiled and Stiles took a mental picture, deciding right then and there he wanted to see more of those.

"And you need better insults, big guy," Stiles stood up and checked his phone, stretching his limbs out, "Luckily for you, I'm an expert in that field. But we need to head over to Scott's, we're already late."

"And whose fault is that?" Derek packed up the bullets they had finished and tossed Stiles an unloaded shotgun before heading to his room to change before they left. Stiles knew that was a good idea, he didn't need Scott getting a noseful of best friend's arousal.

"When we get back, we're having a discussion about this, whatever this is," Stiles motioned from him to Derek and the werewolf seemed nonchalant as always, "Capiche?"

"Can't make any promises." Derek said as he walked down the hall, but there was a playfulness in his voice.

"Asshole!"

"Douchebag!" Derek called back and Stiles laughed slightly.

"Not bad but you still need work."

* * *

No good deed goes unpunished, and Stiles always found that out the hard way.

After leaving Scott's without any more leads on to how to close off the Hellmouths, Stiles decided to check on his latest project. It was something he had to do alone. He was able to convince Derek to stay home, saying he forgot his phone at Scott's. Which technically wasn't a lie, even though he did it on purpose. He needed a reason to sneak out because he pretty much had the surprise of the century being prepared.

The Hale House.

After they'd cleared the hunters out, Stiles bought up the land, claiming he wanted to work on fixing up the property for another home in Beacon Hills. But really, it was for Derek. The restorations had started a few weeks ago by laborers who unfortunately were slaves in the service of minor demons. But Stiles figured he'd really pay them back soon when they ganked every demon in southern California.

When he got to the property, he had to admit it was coming along. The demon he paid said it would only take a few months. Stiles had smiled, nodded, handed the cash over all while contemplating every way to exorcise him imaginable. But those low-level demons never could read minds. Stiles walked up to the front steps and froze, that feeling of being watched making his skin prickle. He slowly pulled his pistol out, cocking it before he whipped around. He'd barely made a full turn before a bag was forced over his head and a cord tightened around his throat.

"Don't kill him!" Someone hissed and Stiles fired his gun blindly as a cry rang out.

"The fucker has consecrated rounds!" One man yelled out in pain as Stiles fired off shot after shot until the gun was wrenched from his grip as his hands were bound. He tried to flail and kick his feet out, but a sharp blow to his knee made him stumble. He felt a blade against his throat.

"Fight, and we start taking fingers." At these words, Stiles tried to calm himself despite the cord cutting off most oxygen to his airway. He was going to pass out.

"Fuck…you…" He managed to choke out and one of the men laughed.

"That's for Bael to decide." When Stiles heard the name, that's when he truly felt fear. If these demons were bringing him to Bael, there was a good chance he wasn't coming back. No one returned from the first king of Hell.

The scream died in his throat as he lost consciousness.

* * *

"This is nice."

"But we're not doing anything?"

"Exactly."

Scott smiled as Kira glanced up at him. After their meeting with everyone, Scott had suggested they watch a movie and for once just have a relaxing night, whatever that meant. So far they were cuddling on the couch and even their parents had made themselves scarce. It was an actual miracle when they got alone time, especially since Kira's parents were pretty protective of their only daughter.

"We should do this more. It almost feels like we're normal teenagers. Besides the fact that I'm a kitsune and you're a werewolf." Kira said and Scott leaned in and touched his lips softly to hers. Kissing Kira was still something new, something gentle and fragile, and he wanted to get it right.

"And we hunt evil in our spare time."

"We really aren't normal, are we?" She looked up at him almost with worry but Scott only smiled at her.

"I think I'm okay with it," He moved in to kiss Kira again when his phone started going off. He frowned and Kira kissed him on the cheek.

"Who needs a night off?"

"We do," He grabbed his phone and frowned when he saw it was from Stiles' emergency cell, "Dude, are you okay?"

"Scott. Please tell me Stiles is with you." Derek's voice greeted him, trying to sound calm but Scott knew that wasn't the case. After seeing Stiles and Lydia at the meeting, the Alpha knew just how serious things had gotten between them and their houseguests. He made a mental note right then to ask Kira what she thought about neck marking.

"I haven't seen him since you guys left. What's going on?"

"We have a problem." Derek spoke through gritted teeth and Scott felt his stomach drop. He spoke again but he already knew the answer.

"What happened?"

"Stiles is missing."


	6. Sympathy For The Devil

"Good. You've awoken," Stiles immediately struggled against the cords that tightly bound his hands and feet to the chair he was sitting on. But he knew it was no use, not where they had taken him. His knee still ached, but that was the least of his worries, "Do you know where you are, Mr. Stilinski?"

"The Sheriff Station." The words tasted like bile in his throat. The demons had taken over the high offices when they got power, and his dad's workplace had been one of the first on the list.

"Very perceptive of you. Now, do you know why you've been brought here?"

"Because you assholes don't like following your own rules."

"Careful…" The man before him said as his eyes turned black. He was someone that even as a human would make Stiles nervous. Over six feet tall and muscular, Stiles could see black tattoos peeking out on dark skinned arms underneath his black suit. Tattoos even crept up from his neck onto his shaved head, "Do you know who I am?"

"Bael." The demon gave a low, almost sensual laugh.

"We enjoy when humans say our real names, it gives us power. For centuries they were whispered on the lips of the damned. And now? Now we have the ability to make people scream them. But I digress…"

"What is it you want? Money? I can pay." At this point, Stiles would throw out any number this bastard wanted. He wasn't going to die here, he couldn't. And knowing how smart these higher demons could be, no doubt they took measures to disguise his scent.

"It isn't your money I require. Your cooperation would be welcome, but I have my doubt you'll offer it," He took a step closer as his eyes changed back to brown, so dark they were almost black, "Malphas has strict rules against her clients being harmed, but she's been forced to comply with my demands."

"And what are those?"

"Before all of the Hellmouths were opened, there were still ways for us to get to Earth, the easiest through summoning. Your kind has a weakness for wanting power, in all forms, and believe that we can comply. And some of us do…for a price. My brother, one of Lucifer's favorites, has been awaiting his chance to find a proper host. After he helped open the Nemeton, Lucifer wants his desires granted." Once Stiles decoded what the demon was saying, his eyes went wide.

"No. There is no FUCKING way you're putting a demon in me."

"You believe you have a choice? A mere human?" Bael let out another dark laugh and Stiles once again fought his bonds. He couldn't be possessed, not after what happened to his dad. That wasn't an option.

"FUCK YOU! You can't just possess me!" He knew that he really didn't have a choice, and when the laughter disappeared on Bael's face, his eyes turned black again and he grabbed Stiles's arms, face inches from his.

"Do you think you can defy me? The First King of Hell? Commander of Sixty-Six Legions?" Bael shouted at him, deep voice booming and even Stiles cringed. This demon meant business, which meant Stiles really was going to be possessed despite the protection he thought he had.

"Why me?"

"You were requested," His eyes turned back to normal and he moved back, looming over Stiles, "Don't think I am unaware of what you and your friends do. That I wouldn't know what's happening in the area I control. I will break all of you…and it starts here." He motioned to one of his guards who escorted a woman into the room, a smirk on her lips the moment she saw Stiles.

"Oh he _is_ cute…I hoped for as much. This one is boring as hell," The woman finally met Stiles's gaze and her eyes flashed black, "We're going to have a lot of fun, Stiles."

"I seriously doubt that…" He muttered to himself, hating how they were treating this like some big game. Was this how Derek felt being put up for auction? Derek…the thought of him alone made his heart ache for what was about to happen.

"Shall we kill your old host?" Bael asked the woman and she merely shrugged.

"I've been in her so long she won't be any good as a slave. Still useable, I've just been waiting for this," She looked at Stiles again with a smirk and he didn't understand why she'd chosen him. Like she knew something he didn't. But she didn't wait for anymore instructions before the black smoke shot out of the woman's mouth and made its way to him. Stiles tried to keep his mouth shut, but the smoke wrenched his throat open, seeping through his nostrils, across his tongue. He felt the darkness dive deep into him and it was all-consuming. He felt his own mind get pushed somewhere deep inside, lips moving and talking without him giving the command, "Oh this one's been a real bad boy, Bael. He's got a lot of fight in him too."

_GET THE FUCK OUT OF ME! _Stiles screamed out but his lips didn't move. He felt himself laugh as a feminine voice in his head seemed to answer his cry.

_Not a chance, sweetie. You're mine now, better sit back and enjoy the ride. _

Stiles wanted to feel sick, but he didn't feel anything. He felt like a ghost haunting his own body, like he was intruding, everything in a dream sequence. He heard this demon use his voice, thank Bael, even move like him. But it wasn't, not anymore. Stiles was in a prison with his own body as the walls and there was no escape. This demon could take off across the country and no one would know what happened to him. Not Scott. Not Lydia. Not Derek…It was then Stiles started screaming, only being answered by laughter.

"You can't fight it. I can feel you in there squirming, hear all those sad little thoughts…Face it, Stiles. You lost."

_Fuck you. Fuck you. FUCK YOU. _

And the louder he screamed, the louder the laughter carried on.

* * *

"I'd better not break a nail…"

"I wouldn't dream of compromising your manicure."

Lydia and Peter stood in her finished basement, face to face after leaving Scott's and Peter deciding the banshee needed to learn how to properly fight. She wasn't really convinced but the werewolf did make a good point; it would be helpful if she could better defend herself.

"You know I'm not completely helpless, right? Stiles taught me how to shoot a gun and there are my screams."

"Which you can't seem to control," Peter raised his eyebrows at her and she hated that he was right. Her powers weren't exactly predictable. She could control her screams to an extent, but she couldn't control when she got messages from other banshees, warnings of death and despair, "Banshee lore says you can change forms and even change into mist…if it's actually believable."

"That's what my great-grandmother told me. She's the reason I know what I do. The banshee gene travels through the female side of the family and she passed it to me." Lydia knew how to sound nonchalant, even when she didn't feel that way. Talking about her family was a sore subject.

"She must be up in years…" Peter paused to think about it for a moment, "She's dead, isn't she?"

"I never met her when she was alive. Once all this banshee stuff started happening, she came to me. It was after my mom went into hiding so at first I thought I was going crazy…" Lydia looked down, not wanting to remember then. When she forced her parents to barricade themselves in one of Deaton's compounds. Beacon Hills wasn't safe for humans, especially ones that only had a banshee to protect them.

"So with a little training, you could actually change your appearance?"

"In theory…yes. In practice…I haven't exactly figured that out. But you saw what happened at the Nemeton. I can't exactly control when my weird powers decide to tell me something."

"Exactly why you should learn how to defend yourself." The smirk on Peter's lips only made her sigh as she crossed her arms.

"Fine. Tell me what to do."

"First, make a fist," Lydia did as she was told and Peter just glowered at her, grabbing her hand to reposition it, "When in doubt, use the heel of your palm," He opened her hand and showed her where to hit, "You can break someone's nose, or jab them in the chin."

"Okay, what else?"

"Show me your stance," Lydia bent her knees and raised her fists, only making Peter sigh as he moved and repositioned her legs, "You want a strong stance so you can put power behind a blow. The best places to hit are the weak points of the body…throat, stomach, or groin."

"Do I get to kick you in the balls?" She smiled slightly at him but Peter wasn't amused.

"Pay attention, Lydia," He grabbed her arm and bent it, patting her elbow, "These are sometimes better than your fists. A good hit with your knee or elbow can knock an opponent back. And if someone grabs you…pinch and bend. Bend back fingers or pinch sensitive skin as hard as you can, like under the arm. Now, are you ready?"

"Ready for what?"

"I'm going to come at you, and you need to fight me off," Lydia's eyes widened slightly as if saying 'Are you serious?' but he didn't exactly give her time to respond. Peter lunged at her and Lydia responded by jamming her fist into his throat as he grabbed her, toppling the both of them to the ground. He growled but she didn't fight him, instead she laid still as her eyes gazed up into his, so clouded with the lust to fight she lost him, "Why aren't you fighting?"

"Peter…"

"Fight me!" He nearly growled out, eyes glowing blue. And suddenly this all made sense to her. This wasn't about her learning how to fight, it was about Peter finding some sort of control, of protection for her. And all he knew was how to cause pain.

"Peter!" She reached her hands up and cupped his face, making him meet her gaze, "Everything you do doesn't have to be a fight." He went to pull away but she wrapped her legs around his waist and that seemed to make him want to stay. He definitely _felt_ like he wanted to stay.

"That's all I know how to do." There was pain in his eyes because he knew how true the words really were. He was good at hurting people, not caring for them.

"We can work on it. And I can work on defending myself. But for now?" She dared to pull him closer until their bodies met, his forehead pressing against hers as her eyes closed, "Just trust me, okay?"

He didn't answer, so instead she sealed her promise with her lips. She didn't even have a moment to fear that he wouldn't respond, because his lips kissed her back hungrily, set to devour. Her arms slipped around his neck as one of his arms wrapped around her, the other supporting his weight. She tasted the growl on his lips as his tongue grazed her bottom lip, a soft moan escaping her as Peter pressed his hips into hers. She kissed enough guys to know what it was like, but it was never like this. Something consuming to the point of frenzy. It was when her phone starting ringing did she pull back slightly.

"I need to answer that," She panted out as she went still, Peter still kissing across her jaw to her neck, tongue running across her pulse point. Lydia's eyes closed but the ring of her phone sounded urgent, "Peter…"

"I don't like interruptions," He said bluntly, growling out 'fuck' as he moved off of her, grabbed the phone, and looked like he was resisting the urge to smash it. For a brief moment, Lydia thought about how he would be in bed and her cheeks flushed pink. A slight smirk tugged at his lips and she could only imagine what he sensed from her.

"Hello? Scott?" She said somewhat agitated, but when the Alpha spoke, words coming out in a flurry, she felt fear bloom in her chest. Peter, smelling the change, moved back to her with a frown.

"What is it?"

"Stiles went missing. Scott and Derek can't even find his scent." Lydia looked at Peter with eyes full of worry as she hung up the phone, telling Scott they would help however they could. The werewolf's hand came up to touch her cheek.

"Come on, let's find the annoying little ass who's in love with my nephew."

* * *

Derek ran through the woods, grabbing onto every scent in a panic, hoping to find the familiar one he needed the most. How could Stiles just disappear, not even his scent left behind? Scott told him not to go out alone, that he should at least tag along with Lydia and Peter, but he couldn't wait. He needed to find Stiles. He wouldn't let anyone else he cared about get hurt, not while he still breathed.

He ran towards his old house, thinking that maybe Stiles had come (or got taken) there. But when he came through the trees, his house wasn't what he expected. It wasn't a burned shell, instead someone had started working on it, restoring it. And from the looks of it, the first floor was almost completely redone. Derek paused for a moment to stare at it before he caught the sudden scent he'd been searching for hours to find.

"Stiles!" Derek yelled as he burst through the front door, ignoring the instant ache in his heart when he saw how similar it looked while simultaneously ignoring the possibility that someone owned this house now. Only one thing mattered, "Stiles!"

"Derek?" Stiles stepped out of the kitchen and Derek immediately grabbed his shoulders, burying his face into the boy's neck as he inhaled deeply, relief flooding over him, "Someone missed me."

"We've been looking for you for hours…what the hell happened? Why are you here?" Derek made sure there was anger in his voice as he pulled back, despite the urge to remain buried in Stiles's neck. Wolf instincts could do that, something deep in him saying _Safe_. But what pissed him off more was that Stiles didn't seem to care.

"It was supposed to be a surprise for you, but you shot that one down. I fell asleep," He shrugged before grabbing onto the front of Derek's shirt, pulling him close, "But you're here now, so we might as well break this place in."

"Stiles…" He said the boy's name softly but barely got it out before he felt eager lips on his, kissing away any objections. Stiles was everywhere then, one hand snaking up Derek's shirt, the other wrapping around his neck. He pushed Derek back into the wall, biting down on his lip. The werewolf felt his eyes glow as he pushed the boy back slightly, "I thought we weren't going to do this yet."

"Come on, Derek. Live in the moment with me, would ya?" Stiles had a point, and the look in his wide, amber eyes decided it. Derek felt a growl in his throat as their lips met again, nearly whining when he felt Stiles's tongue touch his. Stiles was ripping off Derek's shirt before the werewolf could protest, not waiting to get his own off as he pressed his skin against Derek's. He rolled his hips into the werewolf's, a smirk on his lips as they kissed. When the boy's hand moved down to stroke the front of his pants, Derek growled, spinning so Stiles was pressed into the wall as his lips found his pulse point, wolf aching to mark what was his.

"Bedroom?" Derek muttered against Stiles's neck, biting down as the boy gasped, grabbing the werewolf's ass. He was surprised Stiles was being so forcefully but he couldn't argue, not while he got pulled into the kitchen by his belt loops.

"Not finished," Stiles hopped onto the half-finished countertop and pulled Derek close, biting down on his bottom lip. His hands undid Derek's pants and he kicked them off as Stiles pulled off his own. Derek slumped his head against Stiles's shoulder the minute he felt a hand grab his dick. He exhaled sharply, "Haven't done this in a while?"

"You're getting better at surprising me."

"Good. I don't plan on stopping." The smirk on Stiles's lips was almost predatory as he started moving his hand up and down Derek's length as the other fished through a drawer, pulling out a bottle of lube.

"You planned this..." Derek struggled out the words, still slightly shocked that they were at this point. Stiles only kept smirking as he wrapped a leg around Derek's waist, "But why is the lube in the kitchen?"

"I told you, bedroom's unfinished. Now are you gonna stand around, or are you gonna fuck me already?" He almost didn't sound like himself, but Derek didn't care. He wanted to feel every inch of him, biting down on his collarbone as he rubbed the lube up his shaft, pressing closer until their bodies met, "Come on, Der."

He felt the whisper against his ear and something dark flickered in the corner of the werewolf's mind, but he ignored it. Instead he wrapped a hand around Stiles's dick, using his other to carefully stretch him, a moan escaping the boy's lips when Derek's fingers entered him. Derek's eyes blazed blue as he lifted him slightly, daring to gently enter him, a noise escaping his lips he was sure he'd never actually made before. Because this felt like where he was supposed to be, like this was something he finally got right, and somewhere in the back of his mind his wolf cried _Mate_.

"Fuck…Stiles…" He muttered as he felt Stiles's nails dig into his shoulders, teeth biting into his neck. Derek moved slowly, deciding right then and there that the next time they did this, it would be less hurried and possibly on a bed.

"I missed the feeling of you inside of me." When Stiles moaned this out, Derek's brows furrowed and he stopped suddenly, freezing in place because maybe he'd misheard.

"What?"

"Don't stop, Der. You've gotten better at this," When Stiles said this, Derek actually pulled back to meet his gaze and a laugh escaped the boy's lips, though it was dark. It wasn't like Stiles at all. But the nickname suddenly struck a cord and Derek merely stared for a moment before the boy's eyes turned jet black, "Say my name, I wanna hear you say it when you come."

Derek pulled himself away, pulling up his pants as quick as he could despite feeling sick. He should've known, he should've realized it wasn't Stiles by the way he was acting. He felt himself shaking as he tried to summon anger but it was buried by a thousand other emotions. The demons had gotten Stiles. And he knew exactly which one this was.

"I SAID SAY MY NAME." Stiles roared out as he jumped down from the counter, body taut like he was ready to attack. Derek felt something inside of him snap. Being back in this place where it all happened once before was too much.

"Paimon…" His voice was a whisper as the demon pulled up its pants, grinning as it walked closer to Derek.

"I knew you'd figure it out. But I wanted to fuck you again Derek, I'm pretty good at it by now," Derek backed up to the wall, glancing down to see one of Stiles's emergency bags on the floor, "I've been waiting for you to come back. I wasn't done with you yet."

"Get out of him. You could have anyone else!" Derek growled, eyes glowing blue but the demon only laughed.

"I don't want anyone else. It's convenient that you love this particular meat sack. I liked Kate, but she wasn't a challenge. This one just won't stop screaming," That alone made Derek roar, claws coming out, "Easy tiger, you don't want to hurt your little boyfriend here. I can't feel it…but he sure can."

"What do you want?"

"What any demon wants: chaos, pain, power…Hard to choose which. But I'm thinking I might start by finishing what I started all those years ago. Burning down this house again for one thing," When the demon said this, Derek bent down, tore open the bag as he grabbed a bottle of holy water and splashed it on Stiles, a scream escaping his lips. Derek didn't wait to grab the demon-trapping cord from the bag, lunging at Stiles as they both fell to the ground. The demon went to raise its hand to throw Derek, but the werewolf wrapped it tightly around Stiles's body and trapped him on the ground, "Der…don't be like this. Let me go and we can have some more fun."

With a shaking hand, Derek pulled out his phone and quickly texted Scott and Lydia. _Come to the Hale House found Stiles need help. Hurry. _He couldn't bear putting the truth into words, not yet. Instead he listened to the laughter of the demon on the floor as it rolled around in Stiles's skin.

"Derek…Deeeeeerek."

He let out a howl like he had lost the only piece of him he had left.

* * *

"Why didn't it work?" Melissa McCall glanced to Deaton who had watched the exorcism with the same concerned expression on his face. The minute Scott found out Stiles was possessed, he brought everyone to Kira's house, knowing that his mom could perform the exorcism and get his best friend back. But nothing happened.

"Your exorcism was cute and everything, but those don't exactly work on me. Sorry, Scotty." The demon with Stiles's face smirked as his eyes changed back from black. It didn't make sense, the exorcism always worked before.

"Can we shut it up?" Peter said bored from the corner but Scott was worried most about Derek who stood away from everyone else, eyes locked on some blank point on the wall. When Scott showed up at the Hale House, both he and Stiles smelled like sex, the pain coming off Derek in waves though he didn't show it.

"What does this mean, Deaton?" Scott asked the emissary who stepped closer to Stiles, examining him as if the demon would give him an answer.

"Like what you see? I can be a hell of a good fuck, just ask Der, he'll tell ya." Scott glanced at Derek who didn't even move. This was bad and getting worse. Luckily, Deaton ignored the demon's ranting.

"This is a powerful demon, maybe higher than any we've exorcised before. It could be why we're having trouble. Do we know its name?" Deaton was actively ignoring the demon, which was good. But what surprised Scott was when Derek answered, his voice so emotionless it worried the Alpha.

"Paimon."

"Ooooo Der, I love it when you say my name!"

"Shit…" Peter muttered and for the first time, Scott actually saw him look slightly scared.

"You recognize the name?" Lydia asked, placing a hand on Peter's shoulder and he seemed to move into the touch.

"It's the demon that possessed Kate. It disappeared after I killed her."

"Paimon is known as a powerful demon, one said to be close to Lucifer himself…" Deaton started talking but the demon interrupted.

"Me and ol' Lucy go waaaaay back." But Deaton continued anyway.

"But it's also said that Paimon only obeys whoever summons him, so they are the only one able to exorcise him. I expect the other high demons, like Bael, would be hard to exorcise as well."

"Kate summoned this thing, and she isn't exactly around to send it back to hell…" Peter muttered, frowning.

"All the other Argents are gone too." Lydia's mind was working at every angle as always, and Scott wasn't exactly sure what their options were now. How could they get this demon out if they couldn't do an exorcism?

"There may be another way, though I've never actually seen it done myself. Werewolf's are able to make psychic links by inserting their claws into the spinal cord, essentially entering someone else's consciousness. There's a good chance the demon could be driven out that way." Deaton met Scott's gaze and the Alpha mulled the idea around for a second.

"We don't need a good chance, we need a definite one. Are there any risks?"

"Stiles's mind will likely rebel against anyone else entering it, so it won't be an easy task. It's also a lot of strain to place on someone's consciousness so there may only be one opportunity to get this right."

"Do you really think you can just push out a King of Hell? Commander of Two-Hundred Legions? Ruler of Bebal and Abalam?" The demon started laughing again, eyes turning black, "Do you think I'll let Stiles go?" A growl sounded from behind him, and Scott knew it was Derek, the werewolf being pushed to the edge.

"This could work…I remember our grandfather taking about this when we were kids. Only born werewolves and Alphas have the ability. But he said he'd done it before…I never thought it was real." Peter added and that alone made Scott more of a believer.

"What happens when we pull the demon out?" He asked Deaton who seemed to ponder the idea for a moment.

"Demons can't possess a supernatural creature, but we may be able to force it into whoever draws it out. In a vulnerable state without a host, it will most likely be able to be exorcized."

"And if that doesn't work?"

"We look into other, more extreme options." Scott could only imagine what he meant, and he feared it might involve bringing back the dead.

"Okay. Okay we're doing this. I'll get this thing out of Stiles." He needed to say it out loud to confirm he was really going through with this. But Kira's soft voice made everyone turn to her, finally speaking after taking everything in.

"Maybe Derek should be the one to do it," Derek actually looked up at Kira when she spoke, equally as surprised by what she said, "I know you're like his brother, Scott, but I think the emotional connection between him and Derek might help him fight in there."

Scott weighed it over in his brain, thinking about when he first realized Derek had been scent marking Stiles, the way his best friend started smelling happy, even looking like he slept through the night. He thought about how Stiles spoke about the other werewolf, how he had feelings for him. And seeing how Derek acted, how Stiles had broken through his shell, there was a power in that. There was love.

"Derek? What do you think?" Scott watched as Derek straightened up, eyes looking at Stiles who only put on a smirk when they met gazes. It was then Scott knew the answer before he even said it.

"I'll do it."

* * *

Not only had they lined the room in salt, but the walls had been painted with demon trapping runes. Once this thing got out, it wasn't leaving Kira's basement. Not alive anyway. And it wouldn't be able to hop back into Stiles either, so it had only one option: Derek. It couldn't possess him, but it would undoubtedly try and kill him.

"What are you waiting for Derek? You're only gonna turn poor Stiles's brain to mush." Paimon sneered out angrily as Derek stood behind the demon, hearing the heartbeats of everyone else close outside the door. At least they were prepared to help if anything bad happened.

"You really prepared to let me out? Because I'll peel your skin off and make Stiles eat it! Don't test me Derek! DO NOT FUCKING TEST ME!" The demon bellowed and for once, the werewolf felt a slight moment of confidence. It was scared, worried, which only meant one thing: this could actually work.

Derek didn't wait for Paimon to say anything else before he extended his claws and carefully inserted them into the back of Stiles's neck like Deaton had told him. The result was almost immediate. Darkness swept over him, feeling like he got sucked from his body and became weightless. He started walking forward in the darkness towards a faint glowing light, the smell of fire and smoke hitting him like a wrecking ball.

Trees were suddenly at his sides, parting as the orange glow blazed. Finally, the woods gave way completely and he stood staring at his house ablaze, screams sounding out from the basement, the screams of his family. As the windows shattered out, Derek felt his chest tighten. He couldn't do this. Not fucking _this_. He was sixteen again and watching his life burn down. It felt so real, so vivid. He heard a dark laughter ring around him and the sound seemed to wake him up. Remind him of what mattered.

Stiles.

Derek took a step forward and felt the blazing heat, but in the back of his mind somewhere he knew this wasn't real. He took another step and saw a charred, burning hand reach out from the basement window, trying to claw its way to clean air, to freedom. Somehow, he knew it was Cora. Everything in him wanted to turn back, but suddenly his wolf howled out the words he needed to hear.

_Mine. Protect. Mate. _

Because Stiles was inside that house and he wasn't going to leave without him, he couldn't. He wouldn't let anyone else get hurt because of him. Derek walked closer to his house, resolve set. As his hand reached for the door knob, his mind was on repeat. _I'm coming, Stiles. Just hold on…hold on…_

And he opened the door.

**AN: ****I think the end is in sight as well. I also checked again about whether or not to add just an apostrophe or 's to Stiles's name...I was doing it wrong so I apologize to any grammar buffs who I've been disappointing. This is also the first sex scene I've ever written between these two, so don't judge too harshly. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and thanks for all the support!**


	7. Carry On Wayward Son

**AN: Sorry for taking so long with this chapter! It won't be as long with the next. I struggled with this one and I'm not 100% happy with how it turned out, but there's definitely an end in sight, possibly two to three more chapters to go! Thanks to everyone who's been reading and enjoying the ride so far, you guys are awesome.**

The door handle was hot enough to sear through skin, but Derek knew he wouldn't get wounded. Real as this all seemed, a part of him kept reminding him it wasn't.

"Stiles!" He yelled out the name, prepared to raise his voice over the roar of the flames, but inside, the flames had vanished. He was instead standing in his old living room, except the furniture was gone, replaced by single metal chair with Sheriff Stilinski strapped to it. Stiles stood in front of him, visibly shaking. Derek's sense of relief at seeing him was quickly replaced by the realization something was very wrong, "Stiles?"

"I can't do this again…" He whispered as a gun appeared in his hand. The sheriff's eyes opened suddenly and they were jet black, a grin crossing his lips.

"Gonna watch daddy bleed out again? Didn't think you had the guts to do that. Don't you miss him Stiles? Don't you want him back? I can play daddy with you if you'll let me." Stiles raised the gun, hand shaking bad but all Derek could do was stare.

"Shut up!" He said firmly, voice more calm then it should have been.

"I can hear all his thoughts you know. Hear exactly what he thinks about you. He thinks you were the reason mommy died, being such a pain in the ass kid. You couldn't handle when she started getting sick, always wanting the attention…couldn't even go a week without a panic attack…"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Stiles bellowed out and Derek heard himself whine as if he felt the emotional blow too. There was only one way this could end and it wasn't good. The demon only let out a laugh.

"Struck a nerve did I? Come on then, kiddo, shoot me. Shoot me and this will all be over…don't you want that?" Stiles cocked the gun and the demon leaned back in the chair, giving Stiles a perfect hit.

"Stiles…don't…" Derek said softly but Stiles ignored him. Instead he didn't argue with the demon anymore, he finally pulled the trigger and shot right into his father's heart, the black eyes fading back to blue as he did.

"Son?" Blood starting trickling out of the sheriff's mouth as he looked at his son in complete shock, his eyes filled with sadness, "What have you done?"

"I'm so sorry…I'm so sorry…" Stiles kept repeating over and over again as the blood starting spilling down the sheriff's chest. His eyes were filled with betrayal, like he'd never been possessed at all. When Stiles lowered his hand, the gun was gone and suddenly so was the sheriff. His shoulders shook in silent sobs.

And then it started again. The sheriff reappeared, his eyes opening as darkness filled them, that same voice grin.

"Please…not again…" Stiles begged and it was then Derek realized that this piece of his conscious had been trapped in this loop. How many times had he been forced to kill his own father? It was then the werewolf realized that this must be linked to a memory, maybe it was why the boy could never sleep.

"Stiles! Stiles look at me!" When Derek yelled this, the boy didn't turn, instead the scene before him got ready to play again.

"Again Stiles? You just can't save your daddy, can you? How fucking pathetic." When the demon said this, Derek immediately moved to stand in front of Stiles, who looked completely and utterly broken. The werewolf grabbed his shoulders and suddenly Stiles's eyes widened, terror filled.

"NO! GET AWAY FROM ME!" Stiles fought out of Derek's grasp and backed away as if injured.

"Stiles it's me. It's Derek." Stiles backed into a wall then, covering his face in his hands as he started muttering.

"I can't kill anyone else. Please don't make me kill anyone else. Not him. Not him Not fucking _him_." Derek carefully stepped closer and gently removed Stiles's hands so he could firmly cup the boy's neck, thumbs resting against his jaw.

"Look at me, Stiles. Look. At. Me," When the boy's eyes focused, he made sure that he was listening, something seeming to click in his eyes like he had heard this before, "This isn't real. I'm here to get you out of here. "

"There's no way out." He whispered, gun appearing in his hand as he started shaking again. He lifted the gun and pointed it at Derek, eyes filled with tears. This demon had already begun pushing him to the point of breaking.

"You don't have to shoot me. There's a demon controlling all of this…I think this is where it's trapped the part of you that can fight back," Derek grabbed Stiles's wrist, worried that dying in this state of consciousness might send him right back into his body. Deaton said they may only have one chance, "You can control this Stiles, it's your mind. Make this gun disappear."

"There's no way out." Stiles repeated, eyes wide as he stared at Derek like he barely even knew him.

"Aw, Stiles are you really gonna kill your boyfriend?" The sheriff drawled out and for once, Derek actually worried this wasn't going to work.

"You're stronger than this Stiles…please…" Derek took a deep breath before dropping his hand, letting the gun press against his chest, "I trust you." Time seemed to stop then, punctuated by the laughter behind them as Derek waited for Stiles to pull the trigger, to give in to the mental torture he was under. But the shot never came. The pressure on Derek's chest disappeared and the gun in Stiles's hand had suddenly vanished

"Derek?" Relief flooded his chest as the recognition dawned in the boy's eyes, and Derek pulled him close, burying his face in Stiles's neck. There was no scent, but feeling his skin was enough. Behind him, the sheriff let out an angered yell.

"This isn't supposed to happen!" The sheriff disappeared then, along with the front door, and Derek knew there was only one way out now. Down.

"I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…I watched it all happen, I couldn't stop it…" Stiles clung to Derek fiercely but they didn't have time to waste. Derek pulled back and grabbed the boy's shoulders.

"We need to get you out of here." He couldn't talk about what happened, not yet, not when he felt responsible for allowing it to happen at all. If there was one thing Derek Hale knew how to do, it was blame himself.

"It won't be easy. And now you're here…" Right when Stiles said this, the basement door ignited in flames and they both knew that was the way they had to go, "You should just pull yourself out, we can find another way. Even Deaton said…"

"I'm not leaving you." He wasn't getting out of here without Stiles, not after everything. And the boy seemed to understand that as he took the werewolf's hand.

"Okay. Okay we can do this. I mean how hard can it be to barrel out of my subconscious and force a demon out, right?" Derek sensed the apprehension in Stiles's voice and gave his hand a squeeze as they walked nearer to the burning door. Derek felt fear rise like bile in his chest.

"Deaton said that your mind would fight back. And the demon will too."

"Don't let go of my hand, okay? No matter what." The seriousness in Stiles's eyes made Derek realize that the only way through this would be together. This wasn't about physical strength, this was about strength of mind.

"No matter what."

Derek winced when Stiles grabbed hold of the burning door. But there was no turning back.

* * *

"Any news about the Nemeton?" Scott asked as Deaton appeared in Kira's basement. Everyone had hunkered down outside the room where Derek and Stiles were barricaded inside. Things had gone silent which didn't help Scott's nerves. His ears were locked on their two heartbeats.

"Yes, actually. I got a hold of an old friend from England who helped destroy the Sunnydale Hellmouth. He's something of an emissary himself."

"Does he have a way of closing the nemeton without destroying the town? Because there was nothing left in Sunnydale." Lydia said as Peter made a point to touch her shoulder. Scott noticed that he kept finding reasons to keep close to the banshee.

"That Hellmouth was destroyed using some sort of ancient magic, but he's been working on closing more of them across Europe. He said that purifying them and then warding against demons is the best way to close them off."

"Seems too easy." Peter said in a low voice and Deaton nodded slightly.

"You're right. He said that any demons in the area can sense when the Hellmouth closes. So with Beacon Hills being so overcome with demonic activity, chances are we'll be facing plenty of resistance."

"Then we'll need help. And lots of it," Kira said this as she took Scott's hand, seeming to know he needed the comfort, "I think I have a really bad idea."

"Those are the best kind." Peter smirked slightly and Lydia made a face at him.

"Demons are susceptible to foxfire. If we could break into the auction house, I can slow the demons down long enough for us to get the slaves out. Humans will have to go somewhere safe, but werewolves can help us fight. That and anyone else in Beacon Hills who's sick of the way things are," As Kira spoke, she blushed slightly as she looked around at everyone, "Does that make any sense?"

"I don't think we'll need to break into the auction house. If Deaton's right, all the demons will come to us. We'll just need to slow them down." Scott said and Kira smile softly at him.

"You'll need someone on the inside to make sure the slaves are willing and ready when the time comes," Peter spoke up and Lydia's eyes narrowed, seeming to know what he was about to say, "No one knows that place better than me."

"Peter…you're not going back in there." She said firmly but he acted as nonchalant as ever.

"They won't kill me, not right away anyway," Lydia's disapproving look didn't fade, but her scent had fear in it too, "Lydia, they tortured me for three years. Another few days won't matter." Scott remembered Alastor and how he dealt with slaves. How Peter lasted as long as he did, Scott couldn't know.

"I don't like it either, but he has a good point. We need anyone willing to help." Scott said but it was Melissa who spoke up.

"Does closing the nemeton mean it takes the demons back with it? Because if Bael is there, I won't be able to exorcise him without help. And who knows how many other high level demons will show up."

"So give humans the exorcism rite." Peter crossed his arms but his foot still touched Lydia's.

"It's a plan. Not a great one, but at least we have something," Scott glanced at the door as he listened to the fast heartbeat of his best friend who was fighting for his soul, "Stiles will be able to help."

"He's going to be fine." Melissa said firmly as she looked at her son, Kira giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

"I know. He has to be." And looking around the room, Scott knew everyone else felt the same. But all they could do was wait.

* * *

The smoke was so thick it made Stiles gasp for air. Derek's hand was gripping hard enough to bruise but he still kept moving. Stiles could feel the demon fighting for control of his mind and he refused to be caught up in some torturous loop again. There was only so many times he could kill his father.

"We're almost to the bottom." Stiles muttered to Derek as he coughed at the smoke in his lungs. Real or not, it still burned. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, the smoke started to clear and Stiles could see the charred bodies of the Hale pack lying around them. Derek seemed to stop breathing. It was only when a woman appeared before them did he almost release Stiles's hand.

"Laura…" He breathed her name as she poured gasoline over her head, eyes glowing yellow and filled with sadness, with betrayal.

"Why did you do this to us, Derek? We trusted you. We loved you." She pulled a lighter from her pocket and Stiles's eyes went wide, Derek stepping forward as if he was ready to stop her.

"I didn't know…Please…" Stiles had never heard Derek sound like he was breaking apart at the seams, not like this. The demon was going to find their darkest places and bring them to the surface.

"You killed our family Derek. Destroyed our pack. We can never forgive you."

"It isn't real. Derek…you know this isn't real!" Stiles grabbed his arm as Laura flicked open the lighter and immediately ignited with a scream of pain. Derek shifted beside him and let out a painful roar, but Stiles did his best to hold the werewolf back from going over to his sister, "Come on Derek, fight it!" Stiles wrapped his arms tightly around Derek's waist and pushed, face buried in his neck as the werewolf cried out.

Stiles's touch seemed to trigger Derek's ability to fight, his eyes squeezing shut as the burning woman in front of them vanished. In her place was a door on the far wall, and when Stiles saw it, a shudder ran through him. This wasn't going to get any easier.

"It knows how to fuck with us." Derek said in a low voice as he rubbed Stiles's back once, grabbing his hand like he wouldn't let go of it for dear life.

"It's about to get worse."

"What do you mean?" Stiles lead them forward towards the door, Derek confused as he looked at the door before them. The number 347 etched into the glass, "Is that a hospital door?"

"Yeah," Stiles took a deep breath as he reached for the handle, "My mom's." He didn't hesitate as he forced open the door, stepping into the hospital room that had haunted his memories for years. Claudia Stilinski lay in bed, wires attached everywhere as a monitor beeped out her pulse.

It was exactly how he remembered it when he was little. Those days when he would come after school and sit by his mom while she slept, pumped full of drugs to force her body to rest. When her memory got worse and her body started to get sicker, that was when Stiles's panic attacks got the worst. He'd hear a phone ring in the classroom at school and wait for someone to tell him his mom was dead. It was days like those he was grateful for Scott.

"It's your fault," Claudia's eyes opened and Stiles stared at her as she looked right at him, looking just as frail as she did the week before she died, "I wasn't sick until I had you." Stiles took a deep breath and he felt Derek move close to him, reminding him this was only an illusion he needed to beat.

"You don't get to ruin her memory," Stiles whispered as he watched his mother, the pain in her eyes almost unbearable. The ache in his chest blossomed with how much he missed her, "You're not real."

"Good, Stiles…" Derek muttered in his ear as another figured appeared in the room and Stiles was looking at a younger version of himself. Barely ten years old, this Stiles moved over to the bed, a pillow appearing in his hand as he pressed it firmly over his mother's face, smothering her.

"NO!" Stiles yelled, wanting to grab his younger self but Derek held him back. As Claudia struggled, Stiles forced his eyes shut, "This isn't real. This isn't real." Stiles kept muttering and finally everything went silent. When his eyes opened, his mother was gone, a wooden door on the floor where her hospital bed was.

"Are you okay?" Derek said softly and Stiles nodded, but looking at the werewolf he knew that Derek wondered just how much of what they saw was real.

"I didn't kill her. She had a form of dementia…" He said this almost mechanically as he pulled Derek towards the hatch in the floor, "We need to keep going. How much more can there be?" He smiled weakly at Derek who didn't return it.

"If you need to take a break…"

"No. We can't stop. I think we're close, come on," Stiles knelt down and wrenched open the wooden hatch, darkness stretching down below them, "We'll have to go in one at a time."

"I'll go down first. Come right after me, okay? We can't let this thing separate us," When Derek said this, Stiles nodding, knowing he was right, "You can do this."

"Cut the dramatics, you're making me nervous." Derek cracked the slightest smile at Stiles's remark before jumping down into the hole. Stiles didn't wait to follow him, afraid that the demon would push them into different areas of his subconscious.

When Stiles landed, the darkness around him was thick, almost humid, like a physical being. It choked him, so black he couldn't even see his own hands. He tried to call out Derek's name, but even opening his mouth made the darkness flood in, like muck-filled water. He gasped to breathe and tried to spread his arms out, feel for anything. But he was trapped in this nothingness.

Stiles struggled forward, unsure where this memory was from, or if it was a memory at all, and he felt his chest tighten in panic. As he turned, he suddenly saw two, small opaque blue lights that barely breached the darkness. It took him a minute to realize they were eyes. Derek's eyes. Stiles reached out and grabbed him, feeling Derek's body shuddering as his own hands clasped Stiles's shoulders. Neither of them could speak, but knowing that he'd found Derek made the panic lessen. Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek's waist and tried to breathe, tried to think, because this endless darkness had them trapped. He felt the deep, struggling breaths of Derek's chest and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will this away too.

_If you're going through Hell, keep going._

He heard the voice, unsure if it was out loud or in his head. But he knew it was his mother, no demon, no illusion. It was a phrase he'd heard a million times but it never made any sense until now. He pulled back from Derek, gripping tightly to his hand as he forced the werewolf down, pushing at the darkness beneath them. The thickness gave way, like clay and muck, and he knew the only way out was down. They needed to keep going.

Derek couldn't see, but he could feel. Once he knew what Stiles was doing, his free hand started pushing through the darkness and they both plunged headfirst into the ground, Stiles gripping Derek's hand like it was a piece of himself he couldn't lose, because really, he couldn't. The deeper they swam into the darkness, the thicker it got. Real or not, Stiles felt like he was drowning, his breathing non-existent, but they couldn't stop. There was a screeching cry behind them and it was when Stiles saw the smallest speck of light did he know he'd been right. Nearly almost solid now, like crawling out of a grave in dirt, and Stiles reached out towards the speck of light. His fingers touched the warmth and suddenly he was thrust forward, letting go of Derek's hand as air forced itself back into his lungs, eyes shooting open.

Black smoke poured out of his mouth, burning as it left, and Stiles realized he was back in control of his body again. They had done it. Derek's claws quickly came out of his neck and in an instant, Derek circled Stiles in salt, not taking any chances. Gasping for air, Stiles watched as the demon tried to escape the room, but the wards wouldn't let it. Instead it went for Derek who already shifted despite the fact he was wheezing for breath. The black smoke wrapped itself around the werewolf's neck and started to squeeze, Derek's clawed hands trying to pull it away but they went right through the smoke.

"Derek…" Stiles coughed out as he tried to get free of where he was tied, but it was no use. If Deaton was right, the demon was vulnerable now. Derek growled but it was weak, the demon was strong enough to kill him. Stiles had to work fast.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus," He struggled out, the words raspy in his throat. The smoke shuddered and squeezed harder, Derek's eyes glowing their brilliant blue, "Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine…" The quicker Stiles spoke, the harder the demon grabbed and Derek's face started turning red, his growls turning into sputters of pain, trying to find his breath as the smoke consumed him.

"Cessa decipere humanas creaturas…" Stiles started to feel his bones ache, very skin feel like it was ready to burn off. Deep inside of him a fire seemed to ignite and his entire body flared up in pain. This demon was strong. It wouldn't leave without a fight. His head started to pound as he felt blood trickle down his nose onto his lips, the final words screaming hoarsely out of his mouth, "TE ROGAMUS, AUDI NOS."

Derek feel to his knees as the demon screeched, smoke slamming into the ground as it burned the floor and finally vanished. Stiles struggled to remain conscious as he fought his bonds, Derek lying still on the ground.

"DEREK!" Stiles yelled out as Scott burst into the room, Lydia, Peter, and Kira following closely behind. Stiles struggled, sweat drenching him as he tried to get over to Derek, half delirious from the effort of exorcising Paimon.

"Stiles! Stiles it's okay..." Scott tried to calm him but Derek still wasn't moving. Peter bent over him but Stiles needed to see. He promised he wouldn't let go no matter what.

"Hang on." Kira said softly as she quickly untied Stiles, wrists raw as he fell to the ground and nearly crawled to Derek, pulling himself beside the werewolf who still had a thick red ring around his neck from where he'd been strangled.

"Is he…?" Lydia asked softly to Peter who backed off the minute Stiles grabbed hold of Derek. He weakly pounded a fist onto Derek's chest, trying to wake him up, trying anything, but the werewolf still didn't move.

"Derek!" Stiles yelled again, feeling the gazes on him like they knew it was useless. They hadn't crawled all the way through that darkness just to be destroyed by it. He didn't accept that, "Come on!" Stiles slammed his fist harder, half hoping he was still stuck inside his own twisted subconscious. But he knew this was real.

"Stiles…" Scott's voice was soft as his hand rested on his friend's shoulder.

"He's fine. Just give him some room…GIVE HIM ROOM." Stiles yelled as his head spun, so close to passing out he saw black around his vision. He slammed his fist again and when he did, a strong hand came up and grabbed his wrist, a low growl coming from Derek's throat.

"I'm not dead yet." He growled out the words roughly, breathing shallowly as Stiles collapsed against his chest, relief flooding him.

"Thank fucking god," He felt tears in his eyes as Derek pulled him close, burying his nose against Stiles's throat and inhaling deep. The collective tension in the room seemed to fade, but Stiles knew that this wasn't over, not by a long shot, "Sourwolf…" He muttered affectionately against Derek's skin as he finally succumbed to his exhaustion. Feeling warm arms wrap tightly around him.

* * *

"This is a really stupid plan, I hope you know that."

"Sometimes stupid plans turn into brilliant ones." When Peter said this, Lydia only frowned at him. After making sure Stiles and Derek were okay, Lydia and her wolf made their way home, silent for the most part. She never hated a plan more than this one.

"Do you really expect all those slaves to just agree to help us? And Malphas might just kill you to prove a point." As if sensing the worry and fear rolling off of her, Peter stepped closer, eliminating the distance between them.

"You need to have a little faith in my abilities…" Peter touched her chin with his fingertips, tilting her head up as his lips gently touched hers. The kiss was so soft, so careful that she let herself move into the warmth of him, comfort washing over her.

"Hey!" Lydia hit his shoulder lightly as she pulled back, eyebrows furrowing as he smirked down at her, "You can't just distract me! This whole plan is completely flawed and we can't even be sure that it'll shut down the nemeton," Before she could say anything else, his lips were back on hers, hands on her waist as he pulled her close, "Peter!" She mumbled his name angrily against his lips.

"I know this is a bad idea. And I'm hardly an individual who ever jeopardizes his well-being for the sake of anyone else, but like it or not Lydia I'm going to do this," He spoke as he pulled back, fingertips gently threading through her hair, "I may or may not have someone worth protecting now."

"Stop being so heroic…" Lydia muttered as their eyes met and Peter smirked, but there was something soft about it, less wolf and more man.

"No one's ever quite used that word to describe me," He was in her space again, nose brushing against her jaw as lips touched her pulse point. Her hands gripped his upper arms when she felt teeth against her skin, "I'd prefer it if we ignored this plan for now and picked up where we left off before being so rudely interrupted."

"Oh we will…but remember what I said about working on things?" Lydia let her fingertips brush his cheek, making him pull back to meet her gaze, "We can start now. Come on." Lydia took his hand and led him to her room.

"Ah, couldn't wait to get me naked again, could you?" Peter pulled off his shirt and was about to pull down his sweatpants, but Lydia gently touched his hand.

"That's not what we're going to do…" Her cheeks flushed pink and she knew that he could sense her arousal, her desire for him, but that wasn't what this was about. Still he pulled her close and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

"But your scent…"

"If we're going to do this, whatever this is, we need to do it right." He needed to remember how to care about someone without it being a battle of lust and aggression. She would teach him how to be a person again. Pulling away from him, she slid into bed and patted the spot beside her.

"I can turn into a wolf." He offered but Lydia just shook her head.

"I don't want the wolf." That seemed to decide it for him, the werewolf moving over to get into bed beside her, pulling a pillow to his face for a moment before letting out a sigh.

"Now what do we do?" A slight smirk crossed his lips and Lydia made a face at him as she moved closer, turning on her side as she pulled one of his arms around her.

"This. And sleep," She made sure to pull her hair to the side as she felt his nose against the back of her neck, "Haven't you ever been with someone like this? Just held someone?" When Peter was silent for a few brief seconds, she dared turn around to see his face. Something in it was exposed, vulnerable even though he tried to hide it.

"No. Just you." When he said this, Lydia curled up against his chest and he wrapped an arm around her. She got a vision of his life, what it had been after he'd lost everything, after the world went to hell. Like someone adrift alone at sea.

"Well I'm glad you're here, Peter." She whispered against his collarbone and she felt lips against her hair, helping her forget whatever darkness may lay before them.

"Me too."


	8. Walk The Line

**AN: So this chapter is mostly a lead up, but I cut it off here so it wouldn't be too long. I'm forseeing about two chapters until this is done, and it'll be a happy ending. Hope you're enjoying so far!**

Stiles's eyes flew open and he shot up in bed, sucking air deep into his lungs. A hand strongly gripped his shoulder and for a second, the boy needed to remember how to breathe normally again. When he met Derek's worried gaze, he relaxed slightly.

"Thought you bailed on me back there, big guy."

"I'm tougher than I look." When Derek said this, Stiles reached for his hand, wanting to pull him close but he knew that wasn't an option, not now.

"I know," Silence fell between them and Stiles felt all the weight of Derek's gaze, more emotion in it then he dare ever speak aloud, "Are we gonna talk about what happened?"

"No." It was a simple word, but with it the werewolf cut himself off, like flipping a switch, and instead got up to stare blankly out the bedroom window. But Stiles wasn't one to let things go, not like this.

"I need to know what's going through your head, and do not try and run away from this." Stiles got out of bed and stumbled slightly.

"You need to rest…" Derek moved towards him but he only motioned the werewolf away as he straightened himself.

"Fuck resting. I've rested enough," For a moment, they only stared at each other before Stiles spoke again, "I'm sick of demons ruining every good thing I have in my life. I don't want them to ruin us too."

"Stiles…" Derek's voice got so tender that Stiles nearly lost it right then, but he didn't let the werewolf say anything else.

"I had it all planned out, you know?" Stiles laughed bitterly and felt his eyes tear up but he wasn't prepared to cry, if anything it was anger. Anger at this entire situation and how he ever let it happen, "I was going to bring you to your house once it was finished and I figured by then we might be ready. But I fucked that up. It's like I'm not allowed to have one good thing in my life…and that sucks."

"It isn't your fault that you got possessed. Paimon wanted to get revenge since the fire."

"I took advantage of you. I let that thing into my head and even though part of me was screaming for it to stop…part of me liked it too," Stiles rubbed his arm across his eyes, wiping away any tears that dare try and fall before looking at Derek, "And that's what scares me," When Derek remained silent, Stiles's brows furrowed, "Say something. Hit me. Touch me…do something!"

"Stiles I…" Derek looked down, a pain on his face the boy hadn't seen before, "What I did to you…You didn't have control. I feel like I…raped you." He struggled out the words and Stiles was in slight shock for a moment, but it didn't stop him from pushing Derek hard in the chest.

"Fuck you! Fuck you for even thinking that!" Derek looked at him in slight confusion but he didn't try to stop him when Stiles shoved him again, probably feeling like he deserved it.

"You wanted the truth." Derek's eyes went to the floor and it was then Stiles brought his hands up and held both sides of his neck, thumbs against the stubbled jaw as he forced Derek to look at him.

"You need to stop blaming yourself for everything, okay?" Relief flooded through the boy when Derek pressed his forehead against his, eyes closing, "As much as you want to…don't. None of this was ever your fault. You get that, right?"

"It's always been easier blaming myself."

"I get it, you want to be a martyr. Get in line, dude," Stiles pulled back to look at them, their eyes meeting as the boy tried to get a read on his wolf, "Don't you think I blame myself every day for what happened to my dad? Maybe if I had been quicker, or smarter…or I could've found a way to heal him before ganking the demon inside of him. Before I let him die."

"It wasn't your…"

"I know it wasn't my fault. Took a damn long time to convince myself that it wasn't. Shit happens and you need to carry on, especially now. And if Deaton's right, we might be the only people willing to make things right. So will you stay and make things right with me?" He looked into Derek's eyes almost shyly, and when the werewolf's brows furrowed and he grabbed Stiles's arms, he wasn't sure what was coming next.

"I'm not leaving you. If after everything you think that I would let you face this on your own, then you really are more stupid than I thought," The slightest smile crossed Derek's lips then and Stiles felt his whole body relax, "I'm your bodyguard, remember?"

"You have one serious case of Stockholm Syndrome, dude," They both let their hands drop, seriousness falling over them again because Stiles knew that this wasn't an easy fix, "So what happens to us now?"

"You're still my pack. You're still my…" Derek didn't finish the sentence as his eyes went to the floor, "I still feel the same. I just…I don't want to be her." Stiles figured he got what it meant. He could picture Derek young, inexperienced as this older girl manipulated her way into his affection. The thought alone made him sick.

"You never were. And for the record, I still feel totally the same about you. You wanna scent mark me head to toe, this guy won't complain. Or if you'd rather keep your distance, I get that too," Stiles stepped back into Derek's space, lips parting as he gazed at Derek's lips, "But I think I need to kiss you right now, just for a second. If that's okay?" He would respect Derek's space however possible, but he needed the confirmation. Even if he said no he'd be content waiting until the werewolf was ready. But he saw the way Derek looked at him and it made him hold his breath.

"Okay."

Derek leaned in, the whisper on his lips before Stiles pressed his lips to his. He didn't need any more words to escape, better to taste them than hear them. He wanted to deepen the kiss, but there would be time for that. Instead, Stiles let his hands rest on Derek's chest, moving up to his shoulders as he kissed him softly. When Derek hands came to his arms, he sensed the werewolf was conflicted as well. It would be so easy to open his lips, coerce his tongue out and press their bodies close. But it wasn't about that. It was Stiles who pulled back, a slight half smile on his lips.

"Thanks, man."

"We'll get there."

"I know, take it slow. Notice how my hands aren't in your pants right now." Stiles held up his hands and he swore that he actually made Derek Hale blush but if he asked he knew that the werewolf would deny everything.

"I can't believe you just said that…"

"Believe it, bucko. You're the one who's into it," Stiles shrugged with a slight grin as he walked over towards the door, "Now come on, we have a town to save."

* * *

"Can I try something?"

In the lulling darkness after a long day of planning, Scott lay beside Kira, curled up together. Silence had fallen over them with enough weighing on their minds to keep them both from finding sleep. But now, when they planned to face something bigger than all of them, Scott decided what he wanted to do. Needed to do.

"Is it scent marking me?" When she asked this, turning to look at him, Scott's eyes widened slightly, "I was sort of hoping you'd want to."

"Is that okay though?" He thought about how openly Peter and Derek had marked his friends, and he wanted everyone to know Kira was his. His wolf wanted it most of all.

"Yeah of course. I know you're not like Derek…and you're definitely not like Peter…but I figured since they marked Stiles and Lydia that maybe we weren't…" She trailed off and looked down but Scott filled in the blanks.

"That maybe I didn't see us like that?" When she nodded slightly, Scott let out a sigh as he leaned in closer to place a soft kiss on the corner of her lips, "Well I totally do. My instincts have wanted to for a while I just didn't want to freak you out."

"I think I'm good at not getting freaked out at this point," Kira smiled softly and turned her head to the side, pushing her hair out of the way as she bared her throat. Scott actually couldn't stop the pleased growl that came out of him. Somewhere inside of him, his wolf cried out _Mine_ and didn't that feel more right than anything else, "I want people to know I'm yours."

He didn't answer, instead his eyes glowed red as he buried his face into the crook of her neck, nose inhaling her unique scent as it traveled along her skin. He exhaled sharply as his lips parted, biting down softly as he felt Kira press into him. She moved onto her back and he didn't wait for an invitation to move over her as his lips trailed the length of her neck, spreading his scent across her skin. Her hands moved under his shirt, trailing up his back as he let out another pleased growl. Kira warmed under him, like the spark of electricity she was, and he pulled back to look at her eyes glow before capturing her lips.

"Scott? Oh…" Melissa had burst into the room without knocking and froze as she averted her eyes quickly. Scott immediately moved off Kira who had turned bright red.

"Mom!" He called out, embarrassed as his eyes stopped glowing. Kira was looking everywhere but where Melissa stood in the doorway.

"Sorry, I just thought this was really important. Actually I know this is really important. Someone's here to see you. He's downstairs…and I'll knock next time." Melissa nodded before awkwardly slipping out again and now Scott exchanged glances with Kira.

"Who could it be?" The kitsune asked as they both got out of bed and headed downstairs. Scott knew it must be important if they had shown up late at night and were admitted into the Yukimura's home so easily. But when he reached the foyer, he knew why.

"It's good to see you again, Scott."

Chris Argent.

Now that was the last person he expected to see.

"I thought you and Isaac were in France?"

"We stopped there and met up with some old family. But when we found out about the Nemeton, we both decided it would be best to come back. Figured you could use all the help you could get." They looked at each other for a moment before Scott moved in to hug him. Seeing the hunter brought back a thousand different memories, but he was glad to have him back.

"Where's Isaac?" When Scott asked, a flash of pain shot across Argent's stoic face and the Alpha could guess where the other wolf was.

"Visiting her." Scott didn't need to ask who the 'her' was. They had buried Allison in Beacon Hills before the two of them took off. There was never a grave more heavily warded than that one.

"Without backup? Beacon Hills is worse than you left it."

"The kid can handle himself. I brought reinforcements too. They're taking inventory at my old weapons bunker. But I wanted to stop in and tell you that we're standing with you when you close this thing up." If Chris said Isaac would be okay, Scott had to believe it. He could only imagine what became of them in Europe.

"I appreciate it, we all do. This isn't going to be easy and we're sort of counting on help from everyone who isn't a demon. Like preforming a giant exorcism."

"I figured you had some kind of last minute plan. But I brought something that might change the game." Argent pulled out a knife from his pocket. It wasn't every remarkable except for the carved bone handle and jagged edge. If anything, it looked like an old hunting knife.

"A knife?" Kira asked, glancing at Scott who looked at Chris equally as confused.

"A knife that kills demons. Got it off the two hunter brothers who also had a hand in opening all these Hellmouths. They apologized, except one was a dick about it. I knew their father and owed me a favor…so let me borrow this," Scott gave the blade a second glance and met eyes with the older man, "And I know who's going to use it."

"Who?" Scott asked with his brows furrowed.

"Stiles."

He couldn't argue with that. No he couldn't argue with that at all.

* * *

"This is a terrible plan, you know that right?"

"So you've said, like a thousand times." Stiles piped up as he paced the room, Derek's eyes on him as he kept glancing at the computer screen in front of Danny. They'd recruited their old friend from one of Deaton's local safehouses. If anyone could hack into the homes of the residents of Beacon Hills, it was Danny.

"And do I really need to get that tacky tattoo?"

"If you don't want to be possessed, then yes." Stiles said firmly as Danny glared at him before returning to the computer screen. Stiles only stopped moving when he felt a strong hand grip his shoulder and he nearly leaned completely into the touch.

"You need to calm down." Derek spoke in a low voice and Stiles only let out a weak laugh.

"Calm down, he says…" Stiles said looking towards Danny who pointedly ignored him, "We're about to go against an army of demons, I think I'm allowed to be freaking out." Not to mention Chris Argent had decided he got to wield the ultimate demon shiskebaber. Way to keep pressure off him.

"Not to mention you're hoping that the residents of Beacon Hills will help you guys fight. They'll probably just rat you out." Danny said nonchalantly and Stiles threw his hands up.

"If it were up to me, you wouldn't even be fighting." When Derek said this, Stiles poked his finger hard into the werewolf's chest.

"Don't start this shit again, dude." Stiles said in a warning voice, but the werewolf only brought his hand up and rubbed the back of Stiles's neck, eyes meeting his.

"Then breathe. And get your head focused." Derek started massaging his fingers into Stiles's scalp and the boy's eyes closed, a noise coming out of his lips that made Derek growl softly.

"Keep that up then…" Stiles said with a pleased sigh and Danny shook his head.

"You need to do that here?" It was the same moment Scott walked in with Chris, everyone suddenly more alert.

"Is it ready?" The Alpha asked Danny who nodded as he set up a small PA microphone and handed it to Scott.

"This should do it. Anyone with a working security system will be able to hear you. Make it quick though, if you stay on too long the wrong person might be able to track our signal."

"What if some of the houses don't have speakers?" Derek asked and it was Danny who responded.

"After the take-over, all security systems either have voice-over control or at least in-house speaker systems. It's so PSA's could be sent easier. Plus, demons with any computer sense can hack a system this way," Danny turned to Scott, "Hope you're ready for this. Demons might hear this too."

"We're ready," Scott looked at Chris Argent as he took the mic. Everyone seemed to hold their breath as he pressed down on the button, "Beacon Hills residents, this is Scott McCall. You might remember me from before the demons took over, or you've heard rumors that I'm a werewolf, or that me and my friends exorcise demons. The rumors are true. And if you're anything like us, then you're tired of watching our world get taken over by demons that don't belong here. We have a way of getting them out of our town, out of the surrounding ones too, but we can't do it alone. We need your help. You're smart if you're scared, we are too, but this may be our only chance to save our town. For any humans, we can ward you from possession and teach you how to exorcise them, for supernaturals listening, we need your strength. And if you aren't willing to fight, we can bring you somewhere safe. We outnumber them if we stand together and we need to stand together or they'll keep enslaving us, killing us, and possessing us one by one. So I'm asking you to stand with me, with us, to send these things back to Hell. We can't do it alone. If you're ready to take back our world, then meet us at the old loft on the edge of the forest at sunset. We'll be waiting."

When Scott lifted his finger from the button, Chris patted him on the back. It was a good speech, but it only made the fact that what they were about to do was really happening. Derek's hand taking his grounded Stiles for the moment, but he was only thinking about what all the residents of Beacon Hills must be deciding at this very second.

And he prayed they made the right choice.

* * *

Peter wasn't the self-sacrificing sort, and the idea of being in Aleister's eager hands was nearly enough to send him off course. He may enjoy a good fight, but he knew when something was nearly suicide and typically, that was when he opted out in order to maintain his own survival. But this wasn't about him. This was about soft lips, red hair, the delicate floral scent that had that hint of 'home' melted into it. Somehow, without realizing it, he'd dove into something he couldn't get out of. His wolf howled as he walked towards the Auction House, words etching into his mind. _Mine. Protect. Mate._

And wasn't that something?

Lydia had clung to him as dawn broke and he didn't want to leave. Had he really never been close to someone like that? Was he really about to jeopardize it? The answer to both was 'yes' but there was really no going back now. He was going to do his part, and maybe part of him was eager for that pain. Softness was misplaced for weakness, and he wanted to remember how to be stone again. Too bad he knew now, that was impossible.

"Easy boys, I'll come quietly." He said as he walked up to the demon guards, arms raised in surrender as one of the auctioneers came out, a slightly confused frown on his lips.

"Bring him to Malphas, she'll want to deal with this herself." The guards didn't wait to slap a collar on him, bind his hands, and force him back into the place that had been his prison for nearly three years. Peter actually wanted to fucking scream, but luckily he only smirked, defenses up as he was lead right into the office of the one demon he wanted to tear into a thousand pieces.

"Mr. Hale, you've returned to us. This is something I can't say I was expecting," She sat on the corner of her desk as he was forced into a chair, her eyes flashing to black as if it meant anything now, "Does your mistress know where you are?"

"If you thought for a second I wouldn't escape when given the opportunity, then you really aren't as smart as you give yourself credit for."

"Did we forget our manners while being domesticated?" Malphas raised her hand and squeezed, the feeling of his heart being crushed flooded his chest with pain, "Now, why did you come here?"

"Missed you too much." Peter spat out with pain but Malphas only clenched her fist harder, the pain increasing as his chest tightened.

"This is a game you know you can't win, Mr. Hale. Answer my question." Her tone offered no amusement and for a brief moment, Peter thought she actually may be stupid enough to kill him.

"Hunters…chased me back here…backed off." He struggled through gritted teeth and the answer seemed to work for Malphas, who released her hold as Peter leaned forward in relief. She stood up and went over to him, forcing his chin up with a strong grip to look into his eyes.

"Perhaps I should pay your mistress a visit? Or I could always send some of my men. She'll need to know that you've escaped." Something in the demons eyes made Peter think she knew, she knew that something was off and he did his best to put on a poker face.

"Go right ahead." It was then her grip on his face tightened and her black eyes stared into his.

"Don't think I'm unaware of who she associates with. Of what she is," The demon released her grip and motioned for the guards to grab him, "Take him to the cells. When Aleister is free, send our prodigal son to see him. No doubt he misses his old plaything. I'll be visiting the banshee personally after tonight's auction."

As a wicked grin spread across Malphas's face, Peter had no time to argue as he was wrenched from the chair and escorted into the underbelly of the Auction House. At least now, he was conscious and able to rouse these slaves for what was coming. He had some time, unless Alastor had him first. He prayed that out there somewhere, Scott was preparing everyone. As Peter was thrown into a cell that felt more familiar than he liked, all he could do was wait.

And hope to God this worked.

* * *

The safehouse was warded against just about everything, which was why Deaton didn't seem too worried about demons showing up at sunset. Argent and his hunters had set up on the roof with blessed .308 rounds in their sniper rifles in case they had any trouble, but even if one of Beacon Hills residents ratted them out, no demon was getting in the safehouse. Stiles had made Derek stay outside while he got tattooed, some symbol that prevented demons from possessing a human that Argent had told them about. The werewolf only agreed because Scott seemed ready to jump out of his skin when the sun started to lower. Lydia was with Kira, prepping the kitsune with the plan to break out Peter, her worry etched across her face, buried in her scent.

When the first cars showed up, Derek figured it was an ambush. His claws extended automatically, prepared for a fight, but when only humans got out, he waited to see if they could really be here to help. Scott stepped forward to meet them and Derek listened to their heartbeats to detect any trace of a lie.

"We got your message. There're more of us coming. Will our kids be safe here?" A man asked as people started getting out of the cars, old and young alike. Even a few werewolf slaves, their collars gone. His heartbeat didn't lie.

"Completely safe. We have food and water…weapons." Scott said and the man nodded, looking back at the people he'd arrived with.

"We're willing to help." Derek saw the relief pass through Scott as the man spoke, and the Alpha motioned them all to the door.

"Come inside, we'll explain everything once you're all safe." As they went inside, more cars arrived, and even though the hunters on the roof were ready to shoot, Derek knew these people were here to stand with them, just like Scott had asked. There were werewolves, humans, another banshee, ex-hunters, even a few mainstreaming vampires. And all of them were willing to fight or at least take the offered protection. It was the first time in days that Derek felt hopeful.

"How would you feel if I got more tattoos?" Stiles asked as Derek found him in a small room, shirt pulled up as he examined the tattoo on his chest.

"Depends on what they are."

"How about 'Property of Derek Hale' across my left asscheek?" When he said this, grin on his lips, Derek actually had to fight not to smile.

"I can't believe you just said that." He said this almost affectionately and Stiles turned to him, face becoming slightly serious as he stepped closer.

"I did get another one, and I know I should've asked you if it was okay first…" Derek reached out his hand and gently grabbed Stiles's chin, turning his hand to one side so he could see the other tattoo that had been done on the upper part of his neck, behind his ear. It was the triskelion, "Figured I'd put it where you mark me the most."

Derek didn't answer him, instead he was focused on the freshly inked patch of skin that bore his family's mark. Seeing it there on Stiles made Derek want to take back all his talk of taking things slow between him. It made him want to touch every inch of the boy before him and make sure everyone knew that he was _his_. His thumb brushed across the tattoo and his face must have looked more intense than he inspected because Stiles was staring at him open-mouthed and apprehensive.

"Is…is this okay?" Once again, Derek didn't speak, instead he leeched some of the sting out of the new tattoo, healing it slightly before pressing his lips lightly against the ink. A shudder went through Stiles as his hands came up to grip the werewolf's biceps, "I'm taking that as a yes."

"Is this too much right now?" The werewolf wasn't entirely sure what he wanted, what he needed, but he had the sudden thought that he had to make these last few moments count. And Stiles showing up with his family's mark like a true mate would do made Derek want to press his lips against every mole on the boy's body.

"Dude, you say the words and I strip." Stiles smiled slightly but there was seriousness in his eyes, and Derek knew it wasn't quite the time for that. So instead he somewhat roughly tilted his chin up and pressed his lips under the boy's jaw, tongue tasting where the blood ran hot under his skin.

"Someone's eager." Derek muttered against skin, Stiles's hands gripping tighter. Derek didn't mean for his voice to sound seductive, but it did, and his hands went to the boy's waist as his lips moved down, biting down softly.

"Didn't think you had such a thing for tattoos…" Stiles's breath hitched and Derek pulled back in surprise as the boy pushed him against the wall, a broom falling to the floor on impact. Stiles eagerly found the werewolf's lips and let out a moan the moment their tongues touched.

"I have a thing for this…on you." Derek muttered, pulling back only slightly to glance at the tattoo again before Stiles pressed into him, the smell of arousal blooming from the boy that the wolf's body instantly responded to. Stiles let out a laugh.

"I can feel that," Stiles moved his hips against Derek's and the werewolf let out a whine, unable to stop it. But Stiles pulled back slightly to try and gauge Derek's reaction, "Are we still taking things slow?"

"Screw that," Derek registered the smile on Stiles's lips for a fraction of a second before their lips met again. He let the boy lead despite the fact he wanted to pin him against the wall and do much more than scent mark him. But Stiles slid one hand under Derek's shirt to move his hand up his back, grasping for the tattoo he hoped to touch, "Higher…" Derek growled in the kiss as he felt Stiles's hand spread out across his tattoo, the other brushing against the front of his pants.

Derek had his hand halfway up Stiles's shirt, ready to move down when Scott flung open the door and made the two of them part. The Alpha never looked more uncomfortable and Stiles turned a shade of red that Derek had never seen on him before. But he figured that the situation called for it. Derek knew there was no sense hiding the fact they were both aroused, Scott could smell it on them regardless.

"We've pretty much tatted everyone and gotten them up to speed. I thought I would let you both know we're all ready…um…sorry for bursting in…" Scott smiled apologetically at Stiles who gave him thumbs up.

"Thanks Scotty, really appreciate it." The boy spoke sarcastically but Derek chimed in.

"We're right behind you."

"Yeah I'll give you guys a minute…" Scott moved out of the room and Stiles took a deep breath to try and level himself. Derek pointedly chose not to look at the triskelion on the boy's neck.

"Being interrupted should be illegal. Couldn't the demons enact that one? And we're definitely picking up where we left off when we get back…If we get back." Stiles went silent then and Derek lifted his hand to the boy's neck, rubbing his thumb against his jaw bone.

"We're coming back. We all are." Derek brought their foreheads together and Stiles closed his eyes, worry spilling off him in waves.

"I really, really hope you're right."

Thing was, Derek did too. For him there was no other option.


	9. Stairway To Heaven

**AN: This chapter may seem a bit rushed at points, but there is a final epilogue that sort of flashes forward with everyone. This story has evolved so much since I started writing and thank you all for being a part of it! Enjoy :)**

"Everything in place?" Scott asked Chris Argent as they made their way to the center of the forest. The hunter had spread his men throughout the trees and apparently, Isaac was somewhere among them though he still hadn't shown himself.

"The perimeter is secure, everyone has a weapon at their disposal…Just give the word and we get this going." Chris nodded towards the Nemeton where Lydia was already preparing it. Deaton and Stiles supervised but it was the kitsune who was missing that really concerned him. The Alpha didn't like Kira being out on her own.

"And Danny is safe?"

"No demon will find him. He'll be ready when we give him the signal." They had tucked Danny safely away in an old shed with enough wards to keep out the devil himself. But he was a key piece to all this, and Scott knew that precautions were necessary.

"I guess we're ready then." Chris Argent's hand came up to firmly squeeze his shoulder.

"Don't guess, Scott. Be ready." Scott nodded as the hunter took off to alert his men and the werewolf knew he was right. They had one shot, he had to be sure it was right. He glanced over at Derek who was helping prepare the Beacon Hills residents for the fight before walking over to where Stiles, Lydia, and Deaton stood.

"You give the word and we light this stump up, dude." Stiles put a hand on Scott's shoulder and he needed that support from his best friend. Even though he had the demon-killing knife, Scott still hoped Stiles wouldn't try anything crazy. His mom fighting with them, even though Kira's parents were staying with her, didn't help his worry.

"Wish I wasn't the one everyone decided to follow…"

"Perks of being an Alpha, my man. Besides, you're pretty good at it, believe it or not." Stiles said with a slight smile and Lydia nodded in agreement.

"He's right, Scott. If anyone can do it, you can."

"Well…we can't put this off forever," Stiles gave his shoulder a pat before Scott looked to Deaton, "What do we do?"

"First, this." Deaton pulled a small vial filled with clear liquid from his pocket and poured it over the stump, a slight glow emitting from it.

"And what the hell was that? Some kind of mojo in a bottle?" Stiles asked.

"Nothing hard to come by. They're only tears. My contact in England said they help neutralize the Hellmouths. They can be useful to emissaries so a keep a stock around."

"Oh c'mon, D-man. We could've made Peter cry on this thing. It would've been way more dramatic." Lydia glared at Stiles as he spoke but Deaton wasn't fazed. He lined the Nemeton with a thick layer of salt before cutting a gash across his palm, letting the blood spill on top before handing the knife off to Lydia.

"It'll take more than my blood to open it. Once it opens, that's when we ignite it," Lydia followed suit, handed the knife to Stiles, and eventually Scott held his bleeding palm over the stump. The glowing increased until finally the bark started to peel back, a pool of darkness opening up in the center. Deaton soaked the stump with gasoline as he looked to Stiles, "Now!" Stiles flicked open a lighter and the minute the flame touched the Nemeton, a painful hiss rang loudly through the air. As the wood went up in flames, Scott's eyes instantly turned red.

"They're coming! Weapons ready!" He called out as he shifted form. Lydia raised a pistol, Deaton pulled out two blessed blades, and Stiles raised his knife with a murderous look on his face. In front of them, Derek shifted into his wolf form and lined his claws with salt. The sound of bullets in the trees meant only one thing.

There was no turning back.

* * *

Kira crouched in the bushes in front of the Auction House, waiting for her signal. Scott had wanted her to bring backup, but this was a one person job. With everything her mother taught her, she knew it wouldn't take much to take down any remaining demons. And Peter, along with any willing slaves, would help her. That is, if they hadn't killed him. The thought made a shiver run through her.

A hiss broke the silence in the air, and the sound that came from the Auction House was a collective shriek of agony. Minutes later, they all started streaming out. Dozens of demons, their eyes black, started making their way towards the direction of the forest. She knew that it wasn't all the demons inside, though it seemed they really were compelled to defend the Nemeton. She could handle whoever was left behind.

Moving silently, Kira snuck over to the generator that gave power to the Auction House and placed her hand on it. She felt her eyes glow gold as she drew energy from the generator, wanting enough power to ensure her foxfire would be especially potent. Drawing her katana, Kira entered the back door, the demons not even bothering to shut it. Taking all the electricity had cut the power, but her eyes could see perfectly in the dark.

She had memorized the layout as best she could, but the house was still a maze. The first demon she saw didn't have time to raise the alarm before she buried her katana in his chest, foxfire stunning him as she quickly bound him up in cord. The auction room was empty when she checked, but as she made her way into the basement, there was still one demon who wasn't accounted for.

Malphas.

"How clever of you to attack the Nemeton. Although I thought it would be the banshee coming to rescue her dog…not you." The demon stood in front of the slave cells, feet planted firmly on the ground even though she seemed compelled to move as well. Kira's eyes widened but she immediately raised her katana.

"Move aside." Kira said firmly, but the demon only smirked darkly, her eyes already black.

"You dare command me?" Malphas took a step forward and Kira spotted the slaves moving close to the bars, Peter among them though he looked worse for wear, covered in what looked like burns. He met Kira's eyes and nodded.

"I do." The moment Kira reached for her pocket, Malphas lunged towards her. The kitsune flung the set of keys she'd found on the first demon she fought towards the bars and Peter caught them right as hands wrapped around Kira's throat, her katana flying from her hands.

"I plan on enjoying choking the life from your eyes, kitsune." Malphas spat out as she lifted Kira up, the tips of her boots barely grazing the floor. Kira fought to remain conscious as she looked over the demon's shoulder at Peter as he started unlocking the werewolf's slave collars. It was went he reached through the bars and unlocked the main door of the cell did Kira allow her eyes to glow. With a burst of golden foxfire, Kira pushed her energy towards the demon, forcing her backwards to the floor where all the slaves starting spilling out around her.

"You're outnumbered, Malphas." Peter said as he looked down at her, the werewolves around him shifting form. The demon stood up quickly, all humor leaving her face as she raised a hand and squeezed her fist, trying to bring some of them down, but her powers didn't work.

"I WILL DEVOUR YOU!" She roared out as she went for Peter, but before she could reach him, Kira buried her katana into her back, the demon letting out a cry of pain as she fell to her knees. Kira sent another wave of foxfire through the blade and stunned Malphas, though she fought it better than most lower demons.

"Scott needs us," Kira said to Peter as she pulled her blade out of the demon and looked around at the other slaves who stood watching everything, "Are they all coming to help?" A collective murmur went through the crowd and Peter nodded.

"Hope you still have some weapons left."

"Everything is back at the warehouse. We can lead them there first, but we need to hurry." Kira raised her blade to finish off more of Malphas, or at least render her harmless, but Peter's hand grabbed her wrist.

"She's mine." Peter's fangs extended in a wicked grin and Kira knew there was no other person more suited to end Malphas than him.

"Come on, everyone! Anyone willing to help us fight, come with me!" Kira spoke to the group of slaves and her worries lessened when they all followed her out of the Auction House. From behind her, Malphas's screams of pain sounded almost sweet as they made their way towards the warehouse to arm themselves.

For the first time in what seemed like months, Kira felt something positive grow in her chest. And she knew it was hope.

* * *

Everywhere was chaos.

Derek let out a roar as he sliced through another demon, his claws salted enough to make them go down. He barely had time to bind one demon up before another came at him. All around him, people were fighting off demons, but thankfully the Nemeton's burning had weakened the demons' powers. That didn't mean they hadn't come prepared.

The werewolf did his best to keep one eye on Stiles at all times, but his boy was moving quick with that knife, stabbing some demons before they even knew what hit them. It was when he heard Scott give out a cry of pain did he look away from Stiles. The Alpha had been stabbed with a Mountain Ash laced blade. Derek tried to make a move towards him as the demon brought the blade back again, but before he could reach Scott, an arrow wizzed through the air and sunk right into the demon's spine, paralyzing it. Derek glanced up towards the trees and saw a person up there, their eyes glowing werewolf blue though their face hadn't changed. The werewolf and Scott met eyes, and Derek knew this had to be Isaac, though he didn't waste time nocking another arrow. Still Scott watched him with something like sadness in his gaze.

Derek felt the stab of electricity in his side and turned with a growl as one of the demons hit him again with a shock baton. He slashed his claws, but was hit with a face full of Mountain Ash as another shock baton stabbed into him. Blinded, Derek swiped out wildly, but he felt more demons join the first, beating him hard with the batons. His vision blurred as they beat him to the ground, the electricity enough to slow his swings down. His claws found flesh and he heard a hiss, but it didn't stop them. He needed to move, to get up, to find Stiles. He couldn't die here, being beaten into the ground.

Gunshots. Close enough to make his ears ring. He rubbed his eyes as the shocks stopped suddenly and he felt a hand roughly grip his arm and pull him to his feet. "Open your eyes." A voice commanded and when Derek did, water splashed into his face and his vision started to come back. He stared back into the stoic face of Chris Argent who handed him lengths of cord to bind the demons he'd shot.

"Thanks." Derek said gruffly. He had purposely stayed away from this man, not wanting to see any resemblance to the woman who had torn open his life and let it bleed. But there was something different about this hunter, something inherently good, even if he tried to bury it.

"I owed you one." He didn't have to say anything else for Derek to know what he meant. He gave the hunter a nod before they both went off in different directions.

It was only when Derek couldn't find Stiles did worry sink back into his chest. He should've been watching him…he shouldn't have left his side. _Protect_.

"STILES!" He roared out the boy's name but no one answered. He inhaled deeply but the smell of blood and smoke was too thick to catch his scent.

"STILES!" He couldn't be dead, not now, not after everything.

That just wasn't something he could accept.

* * *

Dragging Malphas into the woods had definitely been worth the effort. Even though she wasn't quite in one piece once he'd gotten through with her. Once Peter had gotten close enough, there was only one thing he cared about.

Lydia.

He saw her before she saw him, and he watched as she collided her fist into a demon's throat before splashing it with holy water. As she bound it up, he swelled with pride. That, and a lust for her that was completely inappropriate for the situation, but he couldn't exactly help that. As he went over to her, Lydia collided into him, wrapping her arms tight around his neck.

"Thank god…" She whispered in his ear, a sigh escaping her as he held her back.

"He didn't exactly have much to do with it." Peter grinned as she pulled back and tried to hide her smile. Her eyes travelled his bare chest that was covered in burns, curtesy of Alastor's fine handiwork.

"Peter…"

"It looks worse than it feels. And it'll heal," He leaned forward to press his lips into her hair, closing his eyes to take in her scent for a moment. He needed the comfort of it. A gasp escaped her lips and the sudden scent of her blood made him pull back. Her eyes were wide as blood bloomed in the center of her chest, "Lydia? LYDIA!" He roared out her name as his hand reached up to her back and his fingers burned, a Wolfsbane bullet buried through her heart.

"NO!" He growled out as he tried to pull her into him, tried to suck some of the pain away, but she didn't even respond. She stood still, eyes wide, lips trembling like she was frozen in place. It was then she started screaming. Her mouth opened wide, and the scream that came out made the earth beneath him shake. Multiple demons near them started bleeding from their eyes and ears, screaming themselves as they fell to the ground in agony.

Peter met her scream, yelling back as everyone seemed to feel the pure energy bursting out of her. It lasted only seconds before suddenly she completely vanished into a thick mist that swept across the forest floor and dissipated, leaving Peter's arms empty. He started shaking as his eyes glowed red, his wolf howling so loud the sound started coming out of his own lips.

_Mate. Mate. MATE. MATE. MATE_.

Peter ripped from his human form and became the wolf, fully transforming as he left the man he was behind. He needed to sink his teeth in and taste blood. He needed to destroy every demonic thing that dare rip her from him. He was going to make them all bleed.

As Peter ran into the carnage head on, he lost all sight of himself, of latching to his humanity.

Because now, nothing else mattered.

He had failed.

* * *

"You've got a real hard-on for capturing me, don't you?"

"Your voice grates on me. Be silent." Stiles felt Bael press the butt of his pistol harder against the back of his head and he felt his heart race. But he didn't dare show it.

"Yeah, well, your deciding to possess me with a demon grates on me. So let's call it even, what do you say?"

"I will shoot you." The higher demon growled out as he pushed Stiles forward through the trees, away from the fight and around back towards the Nemeton. If Bael thought Stiles could stop the Nemeton from closing, he was in for a pretty big surprise.

"You need me, hence the no shooting."

"I can smell your fear." The demon hissed out through gritted teeth but Stiles didn't stop talking.

"Do you say that to all the boys you like?" He felt the gun collide with the side of his head, knocking him to the ground, ankle twisting painfully as he fell. Landing on his already cracked rib sent out a stab of pain within him.

"I said be silent!" Bael growled out and Stiles kicked his foot up hard into the demon's wrist, the gun going off as a bullet grazed the boy's shoulder before flying out of the demon's hands onto the ground. Stiles pulled the demon-knife from his belt and buried it into Bael's chest, but the demon only let out a dark laugh.

"Do you think some simple blade can kill the First King?" Stiles's eyes went wide when Bael didn't go down, but he quickly got fully to his feet.

"You keep calling yourself that, but it really doesn't mean shit up here, dude," He said quickly as Bael eyed the gun, but he wasn't going to take any chances. High demon or not, he was still residing inside a very human body, "As for the knife? It doesn't need to kill you…" With that, Stiles drove the knife underneath the demon's chin, straight into his skull as Bael fell to his knees, half-paralyzed and trapped inside his host, "But I can make it hurt like a bitch."

"DANNY! NOW!" Stiles yelled out as loud as he could as the sound of static sounded around the entire forest for a moment before hidden speakers started to emit sound.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus." Stiles's voice echoed through the forest, recorded by Danny hours before they attacked the Nemeton. It was Chris Argent's men, under Danny's supervision, who had set up all the speakers. And it was doing the job. Some demons started yelling and shaking as they fell to their knees, the stronger ones took off into the trees, only to be forced backwards. It was Lydia's idea to draw the giant Devil's Trap on the ground, turns out, it was more than effective.

"Face it, Bael. You lost." As the final words of the rite rang out in the air, Bael's furious black eyes faded as darkness burst out of him, headed straight for the Nemeton. As demons were being ripped out of the humans they possessed, the smoke was forced back into the tree stump. The flames turned a glowing white before vanishing completely, all the demons forced back in Hell.

Stiles pulled the knife from Bael's skull as his body fell finally dead. He took a deep breath before leaning against a tree, wiping the blood on his pants before looking down at the blade in his hands.

"Definitely not giving you back, baby."

And he felt a genuine smile cross his lips.

* * *

_You are death. You cannot be taken by it. _

_Wake up, Lydia. Wake up…_

Lydia's consciousness registered the moment her great-grandmother's voice entered her head. One moment she had been shot, trying to hold onto Peter before her body melted into nothingness. But she could still feel the forest around her, taste the blood in the soil. Her great grandmother had appeared before her and she thought that she was being taken wherever souls went when they died.

But she didn't leave.

_You're ready now, my sweet girl. You found your voice._

_Go back to them._

Had it always been this simple? It was like her great grandmother had reached somewhere deep inside of her and turned on a switch. Banshees were connected to death, not bound to it. Had the answers been inside of her all along? She thought of Peter, of Stiles, Scott…her pack. They needed her.

Lydia felt around the forest, felt the life, the death, the deep stretch of the roots and the tips of the tallest trees. But instead she focused on her own energy. Drawing it in close, she concentrated on her heartbeat, her breath, the blood in her veins, to her very skin. All at once she became corporeal again, and the first breath of air in her lungs stung with life.

"Peter!" She breathed out his name as she stumbled through the trees, finding her wolf bent over the corpse of a demon host, teeth buried in flesh. The wolf's head lifted, sniffed the air, and turned, a whine escaping his lips when she met those red eyes.

"Peter…" She opened her arms and the wolf ran for her. He didn't stop, not even when his bones started to shift and crack, fur disappearing into his skin as he ignored the pain of his shift.

"Lydia…" He nearly growled her name as his arms came around her, squeezing her so close she felt like he would break her. But she didn't care. She buried her face into his neck and inhaled the forest scent of him, his lips pressing against her throat, "How?" She felt the words against her skin and she didn't want to let him go again.

"My great-grandmother…I can't explain it," Peter's hand gingerly went to where her shirt was stained red, but when his fingertips found her skin, the wound was gone, "It's like something in me unlocked."

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't do that again." Peter's hand came to her cheek and she leaned into the touch, eyes closing. She felt the smile on his lips when they touched her forehead.

"Dying isn't something I'd like a repeat of, thank you," She didn't dare let go of him, naked or not, as the world quieted around them, the battle finally ceased. He seemed to realize it and held her tightly, "Can I make a suggestion?"

"Name it."

"Can we stay like this until we absolutely have to move?" When she said this, she felt the soft rumble of a laugh escape Peter.

"I'm bound to you, Lydia." And as his lips pressed against hers, she had her answer. Even as Scott and Kira reunited, Isaac climbed down to meet up with Chris Argent, and Derek disappeared into the woods to find Stiles, Peter and Lydia only saw one thing.

Each other.

* * *

Derek took off into the trees the moment the demons were finally exorcised. Part of him wanted to marvel that the plan actually worked, but there was something more important than all of that.

Stiles.

The scent of blood hit him like a wrecking ball and he ran towards it, his eyes burning bright blue as his wolf cried out in worry. The ache deep in his chest was threatening to burst open. He'd already nearly lost everyone he loved, he couldn't lose Stiles.

_MINE. PROTECT. MATE._

Derek let out a howl as he ran, realizing he was circling back towards the Nemeton before almost stopping completely when he saw the sight of Stiles leaning against a tree, supporting his weight as a carefree grin crossed his lips.

"Took you long enough, Lassie."

Derek didn't bother with a response. Instead he ran towards Stiles, closing the distance between them as he wrapped his arms around his boy, burying his face against Stiles's warm throat. When he winced in pain, Derek immediately tried to assess the damage as one hand snaked up Stiles's shirt to leech the pain out of his ribs and the other touched the bullet graze on his shoulder.

"I'm okay. Derek…I'm okay," Derek's mind was still frantic, wanting to sooth every ache on Stiles even though his words were confirming what he needed to know. As he tried to look for more wounds, gentle hands took both sides of his face and forced him to meet amber eyes, "Hey…you with me, big guy?" The concern in the boy's gaze focused him and Derek's hands finally rested on Stiles's hips, air filling his lungs fully for the first time in what felt like hours.

"I…Stiles…" Derek started to speak but Stiles shushed him, one of his hands coming up to soothingly rub circles against the werewolf's chest. He kept one hand on his head, moving it to hold the back of Derek's neck.

"Breathe Derek, okay? Just breathe. I think you're freaking out." As if Stiles willed him to, Derek took a few deep breaths, the panic that had set in his bones wearing off. It was then he let words spill from his lips that he'd kept internalized for weeks, words he'd been in denial about for as long as his instincts had screamed them out.

"I couldn't lose my mate." Stiles's silence when Derek spoke made him start to pull away, but the hand remained firmly on the back of his neck.

"Did you just say I'm your mate?"

"I…" Derek tried to look anywhere but at Stiles, prepared to emotionally run away from this entire situation at the earliest possible convenience. Now being preferable. But Stiles tilted his head and their eyes met again.

"And how long have you known?"

"Awhile. Longer than you'd think…" He thought back to when his wolf had first cried out the word to him, had known before even he knew, had wanted to wrap itself in Stiles's scent and never leave, "It's never happened with anyone else."

"Here, hold me up, ya big softie." Stiles shifted his weight to let Derek support him away from the tree, wrapping his uninjured arm around the werewolf's shoulders.

"This doesn't freak you out?" Derek wrapped his arm around Stiles's waist, careful of the ribs he knew were injured in some way. But before they started walking, Stiles turned to Derek with a slight smile on his lips.

"Nope. I was hoping you'd catch up."

Derek didn't respond in words. Instead his lips found Stiles's, a smile forming when he heard the noise of surprise come out of the boy. He pulled him close, not caring if Stiles leaned nearly all his weight into him. Derek let his free hand brush where the triskelion was tattooed on Stiles's neck and a pleased growl escaped his lips. Stiles laughed into the kiss, pulling back so their eyes met again.

"Sorry it took so long." Derek said in nearly a whisper, his eyes searching the boy's in front of him. The boy who had saved him, who he'd walked through hell beside, who he would protect with his very life. Stiles let his fingertips touch Derek's jaw, lips slightly agape.

"You were bound to figure it out eventually," There was a moment of silence between them before Stiles wrapped his arm back around Derek's shoulders and pointed in the direction of the Nemeton, "Come on, I wanna get back to where we left off before."

"You have a cracked rib, bullet wound, and a twisted ankle…how can you be thinking about sex right now?"

"Dude…that's like all I think about. Teenager, remember?" As they made their way back, Derek shook his head. His mate, he could say that to himself for real now, was completely ridiculous. And sure enough under all his scents was the faint aroma of arousal.

"Don't remind me."

"Shut up, grandpa. You like them young. I happen to like them old, brooding, and having a tendency to howl at the moon. We both win."

"Stiles…" He tried to sound reprimanding but there was a slight smile on his lips. He had a feeling it was the first of many.

"You know you love me." The moment it escaped his lips, Stiles seemed to stiffen slightly as if saying the 'l' word at all was taboo. So Derek only pulled him closer, leaning his lips against the boy's ear to ensure his answer sent shivers down Stiles's neck, meant more than what he actually said.

"I do."

* * *

Everywhere people were being helped to their feet, the demons finally releasing their hosts. There were bodies too; hunters, Beacon Hills residents, those who had been possessed. But they had won. They had closed the Hellmouth. For the first time in a while, Scott felt a weight lift off his chest as he put an arm around Kira and his mother. His pack was safe, a few cuts and bruises, but they were alive.

Lydia, who had done the impossible, stood beside Peter who had slipped on someone else's pants. Their hands locked together. Stiles and Derek appeared too, his best friend limping but the grin on his lips told him they were both okay. It was when Isaac appeared did Scott finally speak.

"Allison would've been proud." It had been so long since he'd seen the other werewolf, a stoic pain set within him that bore down on him like a weight. All Isaac did in response was nod as Chris Argent put a hand on his shoulder.

"Is it really over?" Kira asked softly as they all glanced at the Nemeton. Deaton examined it as he warded it was symbols, holy water, and salt. They wouldn't take the chance of it ever being opened again.

"It'll never be over with all those Hellmouths still open." Chris said and they all exchanged glances, knowing that the Nemeton was only a piece in something bigger.

"He's right. There's dozens more gates to close with just as many demons surrounding them. If anything, this is only the beginning," Deaton turned back to them as he spoke, eyes going to everyone before finally landing on Scott, "Are you willing to see this to the end?"

"It won't be easy, but we're not the only ones out there who can help." Chris Argent added, and Scott knew that there were more people out there fighting just like they were.

"Hey, it's an apocalypse, what else are we supposed to do?" Stiles spoke up and met Scott's gaze, the Alpha smiling slightly at his best friend who he knew was willing to help take back the world with him. And looking around, his pack felt the same.

"Where's the next closest Hellmouth?" Scott asked Deaton who smiled ever so slightly.

"I can find it. I felt the Nemeton's power, if you give me a radius I can pinpoint it from there." Lydia spoke up and Scott nodded, knowing exactly what that meant.

"Then that's where we go," He pulled Kira close as she smiled up at him. The road ahead looked long, but they knew what it took to walk it now, "Wherever we're needed."

The world was going to end, but it wasn't going to be anytime soon.

And they would make sure of it.


	10. Epilogue: Highway To Hell

**AN: We've reached the end! Hope you enjoy this last chapter, I've posted more notes at the end :)**

"Pull over."

"You can't wait five minutes until we get to that motel?"

"Please Derek…" The way Stiles nearly moaned out his name almost made Derek slam the brakes right there. For the last mile the boy's hands had gotten more desperate, threading through his hair, trailing up his thigh, teasingly edging under his shirt. Derek learned quickly just how much danger actually turned Stiles on. It seemed that every time they closed a Hellmouth, the boy could barely wait to get his hands on Derek, injuries or not.

"We get somewhere safe first. Then you do what you want to me." The slight smirk that played on his lips was something he reserved only for the boy beside him. The road changed them, everything changed them, and Stiles had fought his way beneath Derek's walls into somewhere not many ventured before. It was terrifying, but it felt right.

"You'd better hurry it up." Stiles demanded as his hand edged closer to the crotch of Derek's jeans, the werewolf flashing blue eyes at his companion.

"I'm not having sex in the Jeep again." How many times had they attempted that? Enough to know it was a bad idea. They were wanted demon hunters, after all. Nowhere was really safe for them, not anymore.

"I'm willing to try again…" Derek felt hot breath on his neck before Stiles's open mouth covered the side of his throat, teeth grazing skin as a shiver ran down his spine.

"Stiles…"

"You know I'm bad at keeping my hands to myself…so sue me." Derek felt the smile against his throat and knew exactly what he was in for. And the whine in his throat proved he didn't mind.

The motel wasn't far. When they got there, they barely salted a room before slamming the door shut behind them, pushing and pulling against each other like it was a competition. They'd closed a Hellmouth a town over and were on their way to check in with Scott in New Mexico. But the Alpha knew they'd get distracted, all of them did. It had been months since they'd been back to Beacon Hills, but things were looking up. And even though Stiles found terrible CDs for the ride, Derek liked it was just them on the road. And he liked this too.

"I need you…" Derek growled into Stiles's mouth as he ground his hips against the boys, legs colliding with an endtable as Stiles laughed softly. He pulled Derek's shirt off and the werewolf nearly ripped his down the front, which is why Stiles was always in need of new clothes. But Derek knew he didn't mind.

"Now who's the eager one?" Stiles breathed against Derek's throat as his tongue touched his pulse point, teeth nipping the skin there as he unbuttoned Derek's jeans and slipped his hand around Derek's cock, the werewolf letting out a moan as he pulled at Stiles's cargo pants.

It took a few more minutes of groping and stripping before they both ended up naked, having stumbled on the bed by pure accident. It was when Derek felt Stiles's finger enter him did he let out another moan. He felt long fingers spread across his tattoo as he was gently pushed into the bed, Stiles's erection replacing the fingers as they both let out a groan of pleasure. When Derek pushed back into him, the sound Stiles made had his wolf nearly purring in satisfaction.

He'd let Stiles take control for a while now. Ever since what happened in the Hale house, Derek realized that when faced with the idea of being the aggressor, his own mind wasn't ready yet. They had tried, multiple times, but it ended up with what Stiles considered a panic attack. They were taking steps, small ones, but in desperate times like this when the need became overwhelming, Stiles took over and for that, Derek was grateful.

"Fuck…Derek…" Stiles moaned out, always so vocal, and it made the werewolf growl out in reply. Sometimes, like this, he felt more wolf than man, bound to his mate in the most natural way possible.

"Bite me!" He growled out and Stiles obliged, still pumping into him, pressing himself against Derek's back as he bit down into his shoulder, an orgasm racking through him. Stiles let out a moan as Derek leeched away the pain from their last fight, skin on fire from where their bodies touched. The relief, along with Stiles's own release, made the boy slump against the werewolf, spent, as they remained connected for a few more moments, breathing heavy.

They ended up like they always did. Derek with his face pressed into Stiles's neck, making marks where ones he made before had faded. Stiles wrapped his limbs around the werewolf like he was afraid he'd disappear, but he liked the closeness, the warmth. It felt like pack. It felt like home.

"We could just skip New Mexico. Let Scott know we're okay and just keep driving. We could fuck our way across America," Derek heard the grin in Stiles's voice as he spoke and he ran his tongue over the triskelion behind the boy's ear, "It might be like my best plan yet."

"Considering how terrible your plans are, I can't disagree with you."

"Of course you can't. You like that I make you pull over to do sexy things even though you grumble like it's all my idea…" When Derek felt Stiles's hand trail down his stomach and teasingly inch closer to his cock, he let out a soft whine, "See? At least your wolf is totally in love with me."

"It's not just the wolf." This conversation had been creeping on the edge of their journey together for a while now, and it was something Derek needed to address. Mate meant one thing to a wolf, but a human needed something different.

"Oh?" Stiles's voice sounded small as Derek leaned up to look in those amber eyes, still dark with lust as he let his fingertips press into the back of the boy's neck, leaning his face closer.

"I love you. You're my mate." Derek nuzzled his face against Stiles and listened as his heartbeat quickened, scent mixing between arousal and overwhelming happiness.

"I love you, too," He felt Stiles breathe the words against his cheek, "I just didn't want to freak you out and say it." Derek pulled back then to look in his eyes, knowing that the boy beneath him had been the one protecting him all along. He'd saved him, in more ways than one, and the thought alone almost made the werewolf at a loss for words.

"Thank you. For everything," Derek's voice was nearly a whisper as he covered Stiles's lips with his own, kissing him softly, tenderly as they lay entwined together. After a moment of silence passed between them, Derek finally spoke again, "We're still going to New Mexico."

"And here I thought you were trying to be romantic. Good segue. But I still like my plan better."

"Well…we can work on that too." Derek smirked and Stiles let out a laugh.

"That's what I like to hear, dude." As the boy's hand once more started to stroke him, Derek knew that they were going to take much longer to reach New Mexico. And he didn't mind at all.

* * *

"I can't believe the amount of blood in my hair right now," Lydia frowned as she examined her red locks that had been spattered, along with the rest of her, in blood, "We might need to stop and get some better shampoo."

"Won't our Alpha be concerned if we don't arrive on time?" Peter drove them away from the closed Hellmouth and back towards the large house they'd taken residence in. Lydia wanted nothing to do with looted motels or cold showers. She decided after this experience that she needed to invest in a rain poncho for their next Hellmouth adventure. Gaining the ability to shred demons with her screams wasn't exactly mess free.

"No one will be on time. Stiles and Derek are probably holed up in a motel somewhere having sex like a couple of rabbits."

"What we should be doing is putting my sweet nephew and his annoying boyfriend to shame." When Peter said this, Lydia felt her face flush. Any time those intense, predatorial eyes fell on her, she felt heat bloom in her chest.

"If you want to have sex in some gross old motel room, be my guest. I'll be enjoying a bed with a clean comforter and food that didn't expire months ago."

"I do enjoy the finer things, too."

"I know," Lydia smiled at him as she took his hand, "Now can we get back and clean up?" The look she gave him seemed to do the trick as he picked up speed and made it back to the house they'd holed up in.

It didn't take them long to end up in the bathroom, Peter nearly tearing off her clothes as the shower warmed up. She remembered the first time they'd had sex, months ago, both of them pissed and relieved that they had come out of another battle with demons alive. It had been intense, but it connected them in a way neither could explain.

"See? Much better than a motel." Lydia smirked at him before slipping into the shower, water turning red at her feet where all the blood rinsed off. She barely had time to get to her hair before Peter kissed her. It wasn't rushed, if anything it was almost lazy, relaxed, tongue touching hers.

"I don't like you smelling like blood." His hands came up and started carefully massaging her scalp, letting the water get to her hair but also making sure their bodies pressed together.

"What do you like me smelling like?" Lydia whispered the question into his ear and a low growl came from his throat, eyes glowing red.

"Me." Peter rubbed his hips into hers, lips coming to latch onto her throat as her hands wrapped around his torso, fingers digging into the muscles on his back. She lifted her leg up, wrapping it around him as she positioned his erection at her entrance, teasingly pressing her hips into his.

"You'd better mark me then." The moment she bared her throat to him, she knew any control he had was gone. A growl-like moan escaped his lips as he bit softly down into her throat, pressing her into the shower wall as he entered her. She moaned his name in reply, digging her fingernails in as he started thrusting.

In many ways, this was more glamorous then some of the places they'd had sex. There had been the time in the woods when Peter had just changed back from a wolf and nearly knocked her to the ground out of want. Or when they'd taken out a Hellmouth in a mall and Lydia needed him to reassure her they had both made it okay. And after a scare and a long (and awkward) discussion with Deaton, they'd figured out that a banshee and a werewolf couldn't get pregnant from each other. The relief had been another reason to celebrate. In the back seat of their car.

"Mate!" Peter had started growling out the word whenever he came, and Lydia tried not to ask about it, but it still struck her. And now, as she bit down on the soft skin between his neck and shoulder, pleasure swelling up within her, he cried it out again, shuddering as she clung onto him. He didn't pull out of her, instead they remained melded together as she pressed a soft kiss over where she bit down.

"Am I?" Her voice was soft as he finally pulled back, eyes meeting hers as if slightly confused.

"Are you what?"

"Your mate?" The water had almost gone cold, but she still felt red hot where his skin pressed to hers. But that also be from what she asked. He looked at her for a moment, eyes traveling her neck before one hand came up to brush her wet hair away from her face.

"My wolf thinks you are."

"But do you?" When she asked this, she saw the uncomfortable look on his face. Peter wasn't the best with certain emotion, especially if it left him vulnerable, "I know this is hard for you…"

"A wolf mates for life. The moment a werewolf realizes who their mate is, there's no going back from it. I've seen it before with other wolves and never thought that sort of thing was possible with me. I was wrong. You are my mate, Lydia." He didn't ask if it was okay, or if she found it weird, no it was because he knew exactly how she felt about it.

"You're my mate, too." And he kissed her until the water ran cold and he had to warm her up all over again.

* * *

Scott wasn't surprised everyone was late, in fact, he planned for it. He stopped getting worried about his pack not showing up on time weeks ago when everyone arrived late and smelling like sex. But he knew where they were coming from. After sending his mom and Kira's parents to run a safehouse in California, he'd spent enough time with Kira on the road to realize what it did to people. They were warriors, demon killers, hunters, and most of all, they were mates. It was something they were both figuring out together.

According to Deaton's latest reports, they'd closed nearly all the Hellmouths in the southeast of the country, which was huge. Chris Argent, Isaac, and his hunters were working their way up to Canada and spreading info to other hunters. The demons were still everywhere, but they were scattered and scared. Especially since this group of kids from some small town in California knew how to kill high demons.

Chris had arranged a meeting with some big-time hunters to discuss their next move, and Scott only hoped his pack wouldn't show up too late. Thankfully, he'd given them all the wrong time in hopes it would speed things up. When Stiles's Jeep rattled towards the diner where Scott and Kira had camped out, the Alpha was surprised they had arrived first. Stiles was grinning, smelling strong of Derek who looked stoic as ever. His eyes always softened when they fell on Stiles though. They weren't a very affectionate couple in front of everyone, but Derek always stayed close, his hands landing on the boy whenever he thought no one was looking.

"Scotty, my man." He hugged his best friend as they all greeted each other, Lydia's red car coming up the road to park next to the Jeep.

"I wanted her to race you, but she refused to catch up." Peter said as they got out of the car, a smirk on his lips as Lydia gave him a playful shove.

"We have more important things to do then race cars."

"Your car may have speed, but my baby's got stamina and determination." When Stiles said that, Peter chimed in.

"Sweet of you to talk about Derek like that." Stiles turned red, Kira tried to hide a laugh, and Derek looked nearly murderous.

"Peter…please, I have better pet names then that. Mr. Grumpalumpagus, Captain Eyebrows, Professor Sexy Di…" Derek slapped a hand over Stiles's mouth before he could finish, trying to hide his own smile.

"Do not finish that sentence." The werewolf said warningly and Scott felt Kira take his hand.

"I'll work on some good ones for you, don't worry." Her smile was infectious, as always, and he grinned back at her.

"No way!" Before everyone could get distracted by each other, Kira gave him a nudge and he knew they had to get down to business, "Right…we need to head over to this old factory in town, that's where we're meeting these guys."

"And we trust them?" Peter asked as he crossed his arms, clearly skeptical.

"We don't trust anyone. But Chris knows them, apparently they're the two brothers who started this whole thing. The ones who gave us the demon knife…the Westminsters? Something like that." Scott spoke and watched as Stiles tenderly rubbed the demon knife holstered on his belt.

"Okay so 1. How can we just go meet up with the two assholes who started this problem? And 2. If you think I'm giving this knife back then you seriously don't know me at all."

"I thought it would be good to hear their side of things, plus Chris says they're the best around," He looked at everyone who also seemed pretty wary of the whole thing, "Let's just hear them out. They've been closing Hellmouths too, even the big one they opened up in Wyoming. We can meet them at least." After a moment, it was Stiles who finally spoke.

"I'm still not giving them the knife."

When they all arrived at the old factory, the place looked like it had been warded against everything in existence. Blood symbols were drawn on some windows, others just spray paint. And Scott could smell the salt before the got out of the car. Tucked back towards the door was an older, black car that must belong to the brothers.

"An Impala. Looks like it's around 1967…nice ride." Peter commented as he and Derek examined the car closer. It looked like it had seen plenty of trips across the country.

"Everyone ready?" Scott asked as they reached the door. He gave Kira's hand a squeeze as he saw Peter nuzzle once against Lydia's neck while Derek's hand came up to give the back of Stiles's neck a squeeze.

"I think we've dealt with worse than this before." Stiles smiled but the truth of his words echoed. From the Auction House, dealing with slavers, fighting demons, becoming enslaved, and losing people they loved, his pack had faced it all, and they survived.

"Yeah, you're right, bro," Scott said as he returned the smile, "Derek, can you keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn't do anything crazy? Same thing with you, Lydia. And let's not shift or draw our weapons unless we have to."

"I'll keep both eyes on him." Derek replied and Stiles looked at him with a playful look of disbelief.

"And I'll control mine." Lydia said as her and Peter met eyes, his face looking defiant but he would comply to anything she asked.

"We've got this, dude. We always do." Stiles said with a nod and Scott walked up to the door, grabbing the handle with one hand, Kira firmly grasping the other, forever keeping him steady.

"Let's do this."

And he opened up the door.

* * *

**AN: ****I know, I ended with a cliffhanger of sorts. I didn't feel it necessary to fully cross into the world of Supernatural, merely allude to it. As for some of the sex scenes, this was my first time going into more detail and hopefully I didn't do terribly. I also know that this isn't quite a complete ending...does the world ever go back to normal? Maybe, thanks to the Beacon Hills pack. The important thing for this story was that everyone has their happy ending.**

**I'll be posting a zombie-apocalypse Sterek AU soon, so hopefully you'll give that a read. And I'd like to give another shoutout to Hellasterek on tumblr whose gifset inspired this whole thing. And thanks to everyone for reading!**


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